Part XVII: Cosmic Love
"...The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out
You left me in the dark
No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart
And in the dark, I can hear your heartbeat
I tried to find the sound
But then it stopped, and I was in the darkness,
So darkness I became
The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out
You left me in the dark
No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart
I took the stars from our eyes, and then I made a map
And knew that somehow I could find my way back
Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too..."
"Cosmic Love" - Florence + the Machine
Tuesday
January 1, 1924
Rebecca stared out the window from her sitting room to the bay below. There was nothing pleasant about the day. It didn't matter that it was New Year's Day and it didn't matter that she'd refused to see anyone since Christmas Day. Her whole body felt so raw with grief that she wasn't sure she'd ever be the same again.
Time seemed to simply drag on for her with each day that Elizabeth was gone. Both Mary and Elizabeth were gone leaving her alone. Despite everything that had happened, little Henry had slept through his nap times like nothing was different. He didn't even know that his mother was gone and it was heartbreaking.
Both her nephews were now motherless and more than ever, Rebecca wanted to pull her oldest nephew in her arms along with Henry and tell them both that it would be alright. Whatever happened in life, Rebecca wanted Thomas and Henry to know that she would always be there for them. It was a silent promise that she kept in her heart to her sisters. Both of them could rest in peace knowing that their boys were taken care of.
Feeling a gentle squeeze of her shoulder, Rebecca looked up to see Gatsby's equally sad eyes.
"We should go," he said softly. "Nick is probably waiting for us as well as your parents."
With a nod, Rebecca grabbed her black shawl and stood.
Harper House was a depressing as Rebecca thought it would be. All afternoon people filtered though the house offering their half meant condolences as they congregated afterwards to gossip about whatever new scandal had happened over Christmas. It was something that Rebecca had grown used to over the years and even though she should have been furious at the masses treating Elizabeth's wake like a party, she couldn't bring that anger to the surface.
Instead, she could only remember all the times that she and Elizabeth had done the very same thing. Perhaps it was just the circle of how things worked, but Rebecca couldn't bring herself to care anymore. All she could feel was exhaustion in her bones and weariness in her soul that had never truly faded.
Sitting in a chair as the receiving line continued on, Rebecca looked down when she felt Gatsby's fingers lace with hers. It was strange seeing a wedding ring on his finger, but despite the strangeness of it, she liked it.
"It's almost over," he told her softly, "We'll go home soon. You need to rest because you look tired, my sweet."
There was nothing Rebecca could say to his words because they were true. She was tired and sleep had been elusive to her since Elizabeth's death.
Excusing herself and standing up, Rebecca slipped away from the throws of people and grabbed a wine glass from a passing waiter. Downing half the glass of wine at once, Rebecca slipped out into the empty hallway and rested back against the cool wood paneling. Staring down the hallway to the window, she pushed herself up and walked towards it. The faint noises of the people in the house faded from her as she stared out into the winter garden. She could hear the faint laughter of little girls as they ran in the gardens.
The memories of playing with Mary and Elizabeth played over and over again in her mind as did their childish laughter. If she looked hard enough, Rebecca was sure she could still conjure up exactly where they had all stood to count when they played hide and seek in the summer with Matthew.
A tear slipped down her cheek and without even realizing it, Rebecca brushed it away. The memories she shared with her sisters seemed like they belonged to a different person. Rebecca had been so lost in her thoughts that she nearly jumped when a cold hand touched her shoulder. Turning, she was surprised to see Jordan Baker standing before her looking bored as could be while clutching a wine glass in one hand. Elegant as always, Jordan's tall, boyish frame wore the latest fashions as she gave an insincere smile.
"I'm so sorry to hear about your sister," Jordan sighed dramatically. "I couldn't be more shocked. She was always so kind and pleasant when I saw her. She will be missed, I promise you that."
Despite how fake Jordan Baker was, Rebecca felt a smile come to her lips. It was no wonder Daisy Buchanan had been friends with Jordan. They were practically cut from the same cloth and it made Rebecca wonder what Nick ever saw in Jordan during the short time he'd been infatuated with the golfer.
"Thank you, Jordan," she murmured softly. "I appreciate your words."
Jordan set the glass of wine she'd been carrying down on the small table next to the window and shook her head. Looking around, the tall dark haired woman sighed before looking back at her.
"This may not be the best time for this, Mrs. Gatsby," Jordan said. "How do you feel about going shopping? I have something very important I need to speak with you about and I can't do it here. I can, however, tell you all about it over a private lunch after we go shopping. Can you do the twenty-sixth of January? It's a Saturday and I think that it's best I tell you sooner what I know rather than later."
Curiosity peaked, Rebecca cocked her head to the side and stared at Jordan.
"What do you know?"
"Nothing that I can repeat here in public," Jordan repeated. "Do we have an engagement?"
Setting her wine glass down, Rebecca agreed. As quickly as the word "yes" left her mouth, Jordan had retired back down the hallway towards the sea of people currently gathered in the parlor. Not bothering to follow her and rejoin the party, Rebecca turned and looked back out the window as the snow swirled outside signaling a coming storm.
"What did Miss Baker want?"
Turning and seeing Gatsby standing next to her holding a glass of wine, Rebecca shook her head and scoffed, "She had something to tell me and she couldn't do it here."
Gatsby barely concealed his eye roll as set his wine of glass down on the small table that now contained three nearly empty wine glasses. Despite the fact that he was still using a cane, Gatsby looked handsome. Superbly dressed, Rebecca felt the familiar fluttering of desire bubbling up inside her as she watched him. Not for the first time, she felt incredibly lucky that Gatsby had lived.
It had taken some bribing and threats, but Wolfsheim had been able to pass off Gatsby's shooting as an accident. No one except for a select few knew the actual truth of what had happened and she was so grateful that he was alive and making great progress in getting better.
It was late, but Rebecca couldn't sleep. It wasn't the howling wind of the snow storm that violently attacked New York outside. No, she hadn't been able to sleep in weeks and the truth was that every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was the lifeless eyes of Elizabeth. A tortured image, Rebecca pushed the bed covers away from her and let her feet touch the ice cold floors. Shivering, she quickly grabbed her robe and crept into the dim hallway.
Walking to the private study where she knew Gatsby would be Rebecca slipped inside without knocking. Sitting in on the large, comfortable couch, Gatsby's arm rested against the back of the couch as he sat in the far corner with his elbow resting on the arm of the couch and the telephone pressed to his ear. He was murmuring quietly into the phone. What he was talking about, Rebecca didn't care nor did she listen.
Instead, she crept towards the couch and lay down. Gatsby watched every move she made and when she rested her head on his thigh, he grabbed the cashmere blanket that had been near him and covered her with it.
The soothing murmur of Gatsby voice almost lulled Rebecca to sleep as she listened to him talk and the soft popping sounds of the fire that burned in the grate. At some point, Gatsby arm left the back of the couch and he gently caressed her arm. She knew that he had meant to help soothe her to sleep, but in did the exact opposite. It only ignited a passion inside her and shifting a little, Rebecca could feel the heat pooling between her legs.
The call between Gatsby and whomever he was talking with ended a few minutes later. His soothing touch never stopped even after he'd replaced the receiver on the holder next to him on the small round table. Barely awake, Rebecca forced herself to stand up. The thin material of her nightgown gave Gatsby a view of her body as she stood in front of the fire. She knew that he could see her, but Rebecca didn't care.
"I couldn't sleep," she said softly. "I just…wanted to be near you."
"Your feet are bare," he observed quietly as he stood up and reached for her. Rebecca let him touch her waist and the feeling of him simply tying the sash of her robe sent thrills up her spine. His fingers ghosted over her ribs and nearly elected a giggle from her. She'd always been ticklish there, but she didn't want him knowing that.
"I didn't feel like putting them on," she told him quietly. "It was dark and I just wanted you."
His arms encircled her petite frame and Gatsby pulled her close to him. Still dressed in a suit, Rebecca let her fingertips brush over the skin of his forearm before feeling the softness of his white dress shirt. The vest Gatsby wore was unbuttoned and his tie had long since been disregarded. The top two buttons of his dress shirt were undone and she could see a few fine hairs on his chest. Only once she'd seen him undressed and that had been when he'd been lying in bed nearly dying from a gunshot wound.
"You're frowning," he murmured to her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she replied softly. "I just…I was thinking of you…when I thought you were dying last summer."
"I miss your smile and laughter," Gatsby said with a smile that made Rebecca feel nervous. "I miss it more than anything in the world because it always brings so much joy to those around you. I know ways to get it back though."
"What ways?"
Without warning, Gatsby's hands began tickling her. Trying to fight off his advances, Rebecca shrieked with laughter as he tickled her sides.
"Please, stop!" she laughed with tears in her eyes, "I beg you."
"Not until you tell me you love me," he laughed with her. Gatsby maneuvered them so that when she fell from the laughter and tickling, she fell down onto the couch. She laughed as Gatsby ticked her ruthlessly until he stopped. They were so close and Rebecca couldn't help but to notice the shift in the air. Gone was the playfulness. It had been replaced by something entirely different as Gatsby supported himself above her on his elbows. His body fit in to the cradle of her hips perfectly and without warning, he lowered his head and kissed her.
His lips were soft against hers and Rebecca quickly found any resistances against him disappear. He supported himself one arm as the back of his hand traveled down her body and over her legs. His touch brought an excitement that she could barely contain as he touched the back of her knees that had fallen open to accommodate his body's closeness to her. A second later, Gatsby broke the kiss. Their lips inches apart, she took deep breaths trying to stop the pounding in her chest. The cashmere blanket that had covered her before was tangled between them and falling off the couch, but Rebecca didn't care.
All she could look at was his blue eyes staring back at her with an expression that she'd never thought she'd see in them.
Love.
Rebecca brought her hand to run down his check. His skin was smooth and the spicy sent of his cologne only furthered her desire for him. She wanted him more than she'd ever wanted another person. In fact, Rebecca was sure that she'd never love another person in her whole life like she loved Gatsby.
"I love you," she whispered. "I love you to the stars and back and even that is not enough to full represent how much I love you, Jay."
It was all Gatsby needed to hear. He kissed her again and weeks and weeks of pent up passion between the two of them seeped into the kiss. Rebecca let herself become lost as his hand followed the path from her the back of her knee to her hip. Each touch of his only made the fire inside her burn hotter. He quickly undid the sash that he'd tied only minutes ago and she could feel the heat of his body through the fabric of her nightgown. His lips never left hers as her hands found their way to his own dress pants. She tugged at his shirt until it came free. She fumbled trying to blindly undo the buttons of his shirt for only minute.
Breaking the kiss, Gatsby's hands covered hers as he helped her to release him of his shirt and vest. His shirt had barely been tossed away when his lips found her neck and began placing kisses. Closing her eyes, Rebecca couldn't describe the feelings Gatsby was stirring inside her. Everywhere he touched and kissed burned with pleasure and the heat only continued to pool low in her belly. His hands searched for the buttons on the front of her nightgown that would undo the top of it.
Finding the first one, he unbuttoned it followed by the other three. With each button he undid, his kisses began to descend to her collar bone and he began to place feather light kisses on her sternum that made her breasts ache with need. He pulled the straps of the nightgown down and slid them off her shoulders and arms. Gatsby groaned aloud at his first glimpse of her breasts. Taking his time, he trailed his lips over her breasts, worshiping her body fully. He paid tribute to each breast equally. Her back arched with each gentle nip and suckle he gave to her smooth, sensitive skin. Her nipples ached for him and Gatsby didn't fail in his attention to them either as she threaded her fingers in his smooth hair.
With each kiss, nip and bite, Rebecca felt the heat in her pelvis grow with a urging she barely understood. Growing impatient, she began tugging at the rest of his clothes. Soon enough, they were both naked and Gatsby kissed down her rib cage and her navel. She ran her hands through his hair as he kissed every part of her skin and touched her. His finger tips followed the trail his kisses left burning on her body. Over her smooth abdomen, down over her hip, up the inside of her thigh…
Rebecca gasped when she felt Gatsby's fingertips gently touch her folds. He was gentle as he probed her and pushed a finger in, mimicking actions that he would be doing in the not so distant future. Her back arched as her eyes closed at the pleasure Gatsby brought her. It was like lightening striking her and coursing through her veins as he brought his thumb over her sensitive little pearl over and over again. Gatsby pulled himself up to kiss her long and hard as his hand constantly moved and touched her moist valley. She ran her hands down his torso to touch his hardness. His hissed in pleasure at contact and pushed into the palm of her hand.
Gatsby couldn't last much longer as she touched him and pushing Rebecca's hand away, he kissed her hard. Instinctively, she spread her legs further apart for him as Gatsby pressed his hardness against her thigh. Panting, his eyes met hers as he lined himself up and with one thrust, he was in her. Rebecca felt her eyes roll back in her head at the feeling of fullness. It felt so good and they both moaned at the sensations of him being inside her.
Gatsby paused for a moment for her to become comfortable with him, but Rebecca could see the same tension in her body echoing on his face as stopped himself from continuing. The desperate urge to feel more of him overwhelmed her as she shifted her hips against his in silent urging for him to continue. He hissed in pleasure before he pulled back and thrust into her as one of his hands trailed back down to touch her dewy pearl.
She gasped at the feeling of him inside her as she rested one of her heels on his lower back. Her nails dug into the damp flesh of his back as Gatsby picked up the pace and changed the rhythm between them. Opening her eyes, Rebecca could see pleasure written across Gatsby's face. His lips parted as he breathed heavily with each passing moment. His blue eyes hooded as his once smoothed back hair rested against his damp brow. He moaned her name like a prayer as they moved in perfect sync.
Their hips moving together, their breathing hard…
Rebecca was sure she'd never felt so good in her entire life as Gatsby touched her most sensitive nub with each frenzied thrust.
She was close as was he was as Gatsby moved faster and faster against her. She could feel the coil that was within her began to tighten until it was almost painful. In a single moment, the coil broke and she cried out as waves and waves of toe curling pleasure pulsed through her veins. She clenched her eyes shut tightly as Gatsby gave a few more hard thrusts before he cried out as well. Her whole body felt like every nerve had come alive and was humming with red, hot pleasure. Gatsby moved to rest his forehead next to her head as he tried to catch his breath. She could feel each shuddering breath he took and she couldn't stop herself from reaching out and holding him close to her.
Nuzzling her cheek against his, Rebecca didn't want the moment to end as Gatsby's hand found her and laced their fingers together. He gave a gentle squeeze as pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Closing her eyes, neither one of them said anything. There were no words to say that could possible sum up what they were both feeling in that moment.
Eventually, Gatsby moved off of her. Facing each other, they listened as the fire crackled merrily behind them. The cashmere throw was maneuvered to cover both of them as she tucked her head against his chest. Tucked next to him, Rebecca closed her eyes as she listened to the slow and steady rhythm of his heart beat. The soft, caressing feeling of his fingertips gliding up and down her spine felt wonderful against her cooling skin. In that moment, everything was perfect and she couldn't have asked for anything more.
"I love you," Gatsby whispered softly to her just before she fell asleep. "I love you more than anything in this world."
Saturday
January 26, 1924
"I'm so happy you could come," Jordan said as they settled into the table that had been procured for them for a late lunch. All Rebecca had to do was use her name and service was given to them without question.
Slipping down into the chair and laying her napkin in her lap, Rebecca looked over her shoulder to the man who had become her shadow in recent months since the incident with Ares Patrick. Tall with dark hair and dark eyes, Frank Porter couldn't really be described as handsome, but he was kind.
Today had been no different than any other day when Gatsby had told her that she'd have a man trailing her that worked for him. Frank was quickly becoming the man that was in charge of her security and knowing that she was being tailed by a man that Gatsby trusted with his own life brought some comfort to Rebecca. She did feel safer that something wouldn't happen to her and turning to look back at Jordan, Rebecca decided to devote all her attention into hearing what was so pressing.
"Of course," she smiled at Jordan. "I wouldn't have missed this for the world. What's so pressing that you couldn't tell me before?"
Just a Jordan began to speak, a familiar blond head of hair entered the restaurant and Rebecca couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight of him. Tall and as handsome as she remembered, Rebecca felt herself staring as she watched him weave his way through the tables and approach a man she recognized as his lawyer. The man quickly stood up and shook Matthew's hand before they both sat down.
Shock coursed through her veins as she watched him. In the back of her mind, she could hear Jordan prattling on about something or rather, someone returning to New York.
"I'm so sorry," Rebecca said quickly as reality came smashing back into her. "I have to go."
Not caring that she'd been rude to Jordan Baker, she quickly pushed herself away from the table and fled the place. Her guardian must have seen her distress because the moment she was outside, Rebecca spotted the car pulling up to get her. Slipping into the back with ease, she stared out the window as the traffic passed by. Her heart still pounded in her chest as she swallowed. Matthew had told her goodbye and her heart still ached with the grief of his leaving. It made no sense that he'd come back to New York. There was no possible way he could have known about Elizabeth's death in so short a time and there was only one logical conclusion that Rebecca could come up with…Matthew had come back to her because he loved her and wanted to be with only her.
Shock was still coursing though Rebecca's veins at having seen Matthew earlier. The fact that he was back in New York left her reeling and feeling more confused than prior to his leaving. She was happy to see him, but more than ever, Jay's presence lingered in her mind. The night she'd spent with him still left her trembling and made her body warm in a way that Matthew had never been able to accomplish. Her insides were a twisted mess and she barely felt like herself.
She still loved Matthew. Rebecca could never deny that fact of life, but she was beginning to understand that maybe her feelings for Gatsby were only deeper than she'd realized. While she loved Matthew, Gatsby had always had her heart in a way Matthew never would be able to possess. It was universal truth he'd probably seen long before she had. Though she still missed him, Rebecca understood why he hadn't taken her with him to England. He knew that she loved Gatsby more than life itself before even she knew about it herself.
Walking up the familiar steps to Harper House, Rebecca smiled at the old butler, Taylor, as the man held the door open. The house was as gloomy as ever as she slipped her gloves off before handing them to a waiting maid. Gatsby walked in behind her and gave the waiting footman his own personal effects before turning and looking around the gloomy foyer.
"Mrs. Harper has asked that we leave the black," Taylor supplied quietly, "The house is to be left in mourning for the next year."
Surprise flashed through Rebecca's eyes as she stared at the older man in disbelief, "A year?"
"Mr. Carraway was in agreement as well."
"And Mr. Harper? What does he think about this?"
"I was simply told to do as Mrs. Harper and Mr. Carraway bid me to do," Taylor murmured.
Just as Rebecca was about to say another word to Taylor, Gatsby gently touched her arm and her eyes met his. Giving her wrist and gentle squeeze, Gatsby shook his head.
"Nick is absolutely heartbroken," he said softly, "He blames himself for Elizabeth's death more than anyone else. You and I know that things happen and there is no promise that things will go well during childbirth. Just give him time. Nick will come to terms with what has happened and all this black will go away."
Staring at Gatsby for a moment, Rebecca nodded and looked towards the parlor door where she knew her family sat waiting for them.
"I just don't want to see Nick swallowed up in his grief," she whispered. "He has so much to live for now and I don't want to see Henry hurt by an absent father because Nick can't move on and forgive himself for what happened."
"We have to give Nick space. It's what's best for him."
Feeling Gatsby let go of her hand, Rebecca turned and followed the butler to the door of the parlor. Letting the older man open the door, Rebecca had barely stepped into the room when she saw a familiar figure moved about the room. She could feel the air leave her lungs as she stared at the last person she wanted to see.
"Jay!" Daisy Buchanan simpered. "I'm so sorry to hear about your sister-in-law's death. How very tragic! I've been telling Nicky that I plan on staying for a while. God only knows that he'll need help with baby Harry."
"Henry," Rebecca corrected through gritted teeth. "My nephew's name is Henry."
"That's what I said," Daisy replied with a wave of her hand. "Nicky will need my help and I'm more than happy to help him."
Looking at the solemn man standing and looking out the window of Harper House, Rebecca couldn't help the near homicidal thoughts that were brewing just beneath the surface of her calm exterior. She could understand Nick's grief. He was not the only person to have lost someone they loved deeply, but bringing Daisy Buchanan into Harper House was crossing a line that Rebecca didn't think for one moment anyone could tolerate.
Turning back to Daisy and giving the other woman a tight smile, Rebecca clenched her fists tightly.
"I don't think your help will be needed. Thank you for extending it in our time of need, but Henry already has several people to take care of him."
Daisy waved her hand dismissively again, "Nicky has invited me and Pammy to stay. I've already faithfully promised him that I'd help. Don't worry so much, Miss Harper."
"Mrs. Gatsby," Gatsby quietly corrected from his place near the fire. "It will be and has always been Mrs. Gatsby, Mrs. Buchanan. I fear it's time for us to leave. We have an evening engagement."
"Surely, you can stay for a little while?" Daisy propositioned with a batted lash. "After all, we are old friends, Jay. We have so much to catch up on."
Gatsby didn't say another word as he walked to the door and held it open.
"Rebecca?" he prompted gently.
With one last fiery glance at Nick's turned back, Rebecca left the room without another glance back.
Wednesday
January 30, 1924
"I can't believe he'd bring that slut to live in my childhood home," Rebecca raged as she paced the personal study in Wolfsheim's home. "To look after my nephew, for God's sake!"
"Nick is now the only heir to Harper House," Wolfsheim reasoned calmly. "I'm sure that he can bring whomever he wishes to stay with him during this difficult time."
"Of all the people he could have to help him, he picks Daisy Buchanan!"
"I know why you're angry."
"Do you?"Rebecca snapped as Wolfsheim leaned forward in his chair and rested his hands on the desk. "Enlighten me. Perhaps you know my mind better than I know it myself."
Wolfsheim pushed himself up from his chair and stalked over to the fireplace. Resting elbow on the mantle, he sighed and pulled out a cigar from the box sitting close to him. Easily lighting it, he took a long drag before moving and sitting down in a chair close to the window.
"You're angry because you think that Gatsby will abandon everything with you and go back to Daisy," Wolfsheim told her quietly after he had situated himself comfortable in the chair. "I think that's your biggest fear, darling. Once you conquer that fear, that woman will have no hold over you like she does now. All this fear only gives more power to Daisy and it's setting you on a very dangerous path. Neither you nor Jay were the same person you were the summer of 1922. It's been two years…I think it's finally time that you and Jay talk about that. Confront him and he'll give you the honest truth. I am damn sure that you have nothing to fear from Daisy Buchanan."
"You don't know that," Rebecca murmured. "She's a Buchanan, you know what she's capable of."
"You're a Harper," Wolfsheim reasoned back. "Look at what you did to a Buchanan. Go home to your husband."
She stared at Wolfsheim as he stood up and walked around his desk. He reached for her hands and gently clasped them in his as a smile spread across his face.
"Go home and just go be with Jay," he told softly. "He loves you. Just let him show you."
Slipping her hands out of Wolfsheim's, Rebecca shook her head. Snow had begun to fall outside the townhouse where Wolfsheim lived with his aging grandmother. Never had she pictured the man she once considered frightening to be such a loving grandson. Affected by some kind of disorder, Wolfsheim's grandmother had good days where she remember exactly who everyone around her was, and she had bad days where she barely knew her own grandson's face.
The large townhouse was located on the Upper Eastside and despite the long drive from West Egg, Rebecca was grateful she'd come. Over the past year, she'd come to consider Wolfsheim a friend of sorts and though she doubted he'd ever see her as more than just Mrs. Gatsby, he was a valuable asset and friend to her.
"I've taken too much of your time this afternoon," she murmured to him softly before turning and smiling at him. "Have a good day."
Gatsby sat in his private study going over figures in his head. It was taking him twice as long to do it simple because he couldn't focus. His mind kept going over and over the fact that Daisy was back in New York.
He wasn't excited or thrilled. He was angry and annoyed. He could easily understand Rebecca's anger at having Daisy living with Nick in her childhood home. He didn't blame her, but he was fearful. Fearful that Daisy would undo all the progress he'd made in his relationship with Rebecca. They were so new in their understanding that it wouldn't take much for Daisy to crush that.
If there was one thing Gatsby had learned in the past year with Rebecca, it was that she was as skittish as a beaten dog. It took time for her trust others and it took even longer time for her to openly trust that person. That trust had been slowly building and throughout his recovery, Gatsby had seen little glimpses of the young woman he remembered courting. With every glimpse he saw, hope grew inside of him that someday they could put the past behind them.
The house was running a little behind schedule, but Gatsby hoped that it would be ready soon. When it came to Rebecca, words sometimes weren't good enough and he hoped beyond hope that this house would show her how serious he was about their future. New York already adored her and he adored her as well. Gatsby didn't care if it took him a lifetime to show Rebecca he loved her like no other.
He'd do whatever it took to prove that to her and he hoped that he could show her how much he loved her every day in the beautiful, new house.
A knock on the door drew him out of his thoughts and he looked up with a smile. Hoping that it was Rebecca, Gatsby called out for the person to enter. The last person in the world he wanted to see entered his study and Gatsby felt the smile drop off of his face.
"Mrs. Buchanan," he said solemnly. "I thought you were busy taking care of little Henry."
A coy smile played on Daisy's lips as she stepped further into the room. Her heels clicked softly against the wooden floors as she pushed the door closed behind her. The door never reached the frame and Gatsby was alright with that. He didn't want to be accused of being alone with Daisy. The door being cracked was perfectly alright with him.
"Henry is sleeping," Daisy told him softly as she slowly walked towards him with an exaggerated swing in her hips. "I was thinking that maybe you and I could do that catching up we talked about earlier."
"You talked about catching up," Gatsby replied in a colorless tone. "Not me. I would prefer not to catch up at all with you."
A frown marred Daisy's face for a brief second as she came to stop in front of the desk, "You wound me, Jay. After all those years spent loving each other, you're hurting me. Why are you acting this way?"
A bitter smile came to Gatsby's face as he stuck his hands in his pockets, "Love? You want to talk about love? That's just funny coming from you."
"Why?"
Walking towards the fireplace that was lit with a crackling fire, Gatsby leaned against the mantle as a humorless laugh escaped his lips.
"Stop it," Daisy demanded. "You're acting very strange and I don't care for it. Stop it at once."
Gatsby stopped laughing, but he turned and looked at her with narrow eyes.
"You wouldn't know the first thing about love if it bite you," he told her coolly. "You were never going to leave Tom for me. I nearly ruined myself and my own marriage trying to bend over backwards to be the man I thought you wanted me to be. I wasted years trying to love a woman who was never going to love me back. Granted, many of the mistakes that I made were of my own doing. I accept that responsibility, but I can't accept being the twisted, hungry bitch that is as cold as an iceberg inside. That's your responsibility."
"I might have been a bitch," Daisy said quietly as she walked towards him. "But you can't deny that you always want me."
Without another word, Daisy slammed her lips into his with a force that left Gatsby no choice, but to kiss her back as her surprisingly strong arms wrapped themselves around his neck and her fingers fisted his hair.
Rebecca clasped a hand over her mouth to prevent the cry of pain that had gathered in her throat. Turning away just as quickly, she fled down the hallway. Blindly, Rebecca found her room and turned the door knob. Not caring anymore, she tossed the lace robe aside and yanked the diamond earrings she wore out. Collapsing down onto her vanity seat, she sobbed into her hands.
She'd taken Wolfsheim's advice and after having wandered through Central Park for an afternoon, she'd decided to just go home and seduce Gatsby. All she wanted was just him and after everything, she'd truly believed that Daisy was a figment of the past. A horrible memory that would fade with time until it was nothing but faded memory that barely played right in her head. A voice in her head taunted her that she was the second best again. Jay didn't want her anymore now that he had another opportunity to be with Daisy.
The mere thought of being Gatsby's tossed away seconds brought a choking sob from her lips. All the hope that had been slowly coming to life inside her died.
Why would he want her, when he could have Daisy?
Picking up the closest bottle of perfume, Rebecca threw it as hard as she could. It shattered against the wall and a fury took over her unlike anything else she'd ever felt before. Smashing and breaking everything in sight, Rebecca didn't stop until every last thing in her dressing room had been destroyed.
Yanking open the last drawer of the vanity, she stopped seeing the medium sized glass bottle. Tilly had always given her such a small dose for when her monthly pain came. Only a few drops and the pain would lessen to the point where she could function actively. Picking the bottle up and holding it up to the closest light, a twisted smile came to Rebecca's lips. The bottle was full and unopened. It was more than enough to do what she had in mind.
Ringing the servants' bell, Rebecca paced the room as she waited for her new maid to come up. She barely cared that she was walking over broken glass. The young girl showed up and she looked around in shock.
"Ma'am?" she questioned nervously.
"Go get my car ready and wake up one of the drivers. I need them to take me somewhere."
"Should I grab you a coat as well?"
Rebecca nodded and the young maid quickly found a warm coat along with shoes for her to wear. Slipping the bottle into her coat pocket, Rebecca quickly left her rooms and Gatsby House.
The drive to Ashby House in East Egg wasn't very long, but the whole drive, Rebecca kept comparing her dwindling options. Wolfsheim wouldn't help her; he believed that Jay was in love with her. After seeing Daisy and Gatsby kissing, Rebecca doubted Jay loved her in anyway. Her parents were still too wrapped up in their grief to care about her or her problems. Edward would ignore the problem anyways and Katherine would tell her to just stand still and look pretty.
Rebecca absolutely refused to even go to Nick in any capacity. He was the one who had openly agreed to letting Daisy stay with him at Harper House and as far as Rebecca was concerned, Nick was not allowed anywhere near her or she wouldn't be responsible for the damage she inflicted on him. She didn't care that he was overcome with grief for Elizabeth; Rebecca knew that her sister was already rolling in her grave about having the slut, Daisy Buchanan caring for Henry.
A small smile came to Rebecca's lips as she thought about the words "caring" and "Daisy Buchanan". It was almost like an oxymoron considering that Daisy could barely take care of her own daughter. Rebecca knew that the only reason Daisy had left Paris was because the money she'd been living off of must have run out. Now, the sluttish Daisy had returned hoping to con everyone into giving her money or something. Nick might have been blinded with grief, but she wasn't. Rebecca could see everything clearly and in that clarity, she could only see Matthew as the best option.
The comfort of Matthew was what she wanted and more than anything, she just wanted him. When it came to Jay Gatsby, she was done. Matthew had left her with a broken heart and yes, Jay had put it back together and yes, the man had taken a bullet for her, but Rebecca couldn't compete with Daisy Buchanan any longer. Daisy was a ghost that would haunt her for the rest of her life, but Rebecca couldn't bring herself to care any longer. Seeing that kiss in the library between Gatsby and Daisy…she was confused and hurt and more than anything, she was done. She had let Gatsby play his games with her heart for far too long and she needed more than anything to end it because it would be the death of her.
When the Rolls Royce pulled into the circle drive of Ashby House, Rebecca was grateful to see that Matthew was in residence. His butler opened her car door and after a few short questions, she knew he was in his private study. Not caring that she was dressed in a lacy nightgown underneath her coat, Rebecca quickly took the stairs to the second floor of the House and found Matthew in the study with ease. Not bothering to knock, she threw the door open. He looked up at her with surprise before she moved into the room and closed the door behind her.
"Why did you come back?" Rebecca demanded without preamble as she leaned against the door, "Why are you here? Please, tell me because I need to know. Did you come back for me? You couldn't have possibly come back for Elizabeth. She died the night you returned. You haven't even come to see my parents and you completely ignored the funeral. She was friend in life and I know she would simply overlook your gross error. I will forgive you for it too, but you have to tell me why you came back here."
Matthew stood up from behind his desk slowly and looked at her with a pained expression, "I came back sell Ashby House. Not for you, and not for Elizabeth. I am sorry about her death. She will be missed by all."
"You're selling? You're selling Ashby House? Why? Why would you do that? Are you in trouble? Do you need money? You love this house and you've always told me that. Why are you selling it?"
"I do love this house," Matthew admitted. "It's not that I need the money or I am dissatisfied with it, I'm simply selling the house because I'm not coming to America after this. I'm severing all ties and when I leave here at the end of the week, that's it."
"You're going back to England? Take me back with you," Rebecca begged Matthew tearfully. "Please, take me with you. I can't bare this anymore. Jay, he's…he's with Daisy again. I saw them kissing in the library and I can't suffer this anymore. Please, take me with you. You left me once and it broke my heart, please, don't break it again. Matthew, I can't live like this anymore."
"Darling," he began, but stopped. The wire on his desk came alive with short, shrill rings. Rebecca turned away from him and collapsed down upon the window seat closest to her. The gardens were full of freshly fallen snow that reflected with the sun to create the glittering illusion of thousands of diamonds. Matthew spoke to whoever was on the other end in low tones and she didn't catch what the conversation was about nor did she care.
All Rebecca knew was that Daisy would always be a shadow in her life that she could never escape. It was foolish of her to ever think that Jay Gatsby would and could ever let Daisy go. Seeing them kissing in the library was the only proof that she needed or cared to know about. Rebecca turned her head when she heard the conversation come to an end; Matthew was leaning forward on the desk with a sorrowful look on his face.
"I can't take you back to England with me, Rebecca. I'm engaged to be married to the young daughter of a Duke. My mother made the arrangements and I agreed thinking that maybe it would help me to get over you and I'm so sorry," he murmured to her softly. "My driver will take you back to Gatsby House. I know that nothing makes sense anymore and that you're hurting, but please understand that you're grieving and hurting. Running away won't fix the pain you're feeling. It will pass, I promise. We both know that we are not meant to be and yes, it hurts. We still have our memories to keep us warm at night—"
Slipping her hand into her coat pocket, Rebecca clutched the bottle. Matthew had made her decision for her and standing slowly, she looked at him sadly.
"You still love me," she whispered tearfully. "I wish more than anything you had told me you loved me before the war. I won't be seeing you again, will I? You're abandoning me again."
"No," Matthew said softly. "This is goodbye."
"Not goodbye," Rebecca told him. "Maybe I will get to love you for an entire lifetime in the next life. I can't believe that this is the end. I won't believe that this is the end. I can't say goodbye to you. I'm sorry."
Walking to the door, Rebecca slipped out into the hallway without another word. Matthew didn't try to stop her and with each step, her heart broke a little more. Her car was indeed parked outside and with the help of the driver, Rebecca slipped into the back seat. Not bothering to hide her tears, she turned as the car pulled away from Ashby House. Matthew stood in his study window watching her, but he turned away after only a few seconds.
Taking the bottle of laudanum out of her pocket, Rebecca stared at the warning on the back against drinking the whole bottle.
"Death may occur," she murmured softly, "How fitting."
