Hey! I felt inspired for another chapter again so soon. This will be the only "flashback chapter" but I do love how it turned out! I got everything I wanted and more in, but I really REALLY hope this proves effective at showing his life with his parents. :) I loved this chapter and this is how I picture it. I hope you enjoy.
And...oh. The maid is so lucky in this chapter. *Swoon.* ;) Anyway, I hope you enjoy! :D
November 1902
Cal grimaced as the driver dropped him off in front of the stately, formidable Hockley mansion. It was holiday break for Harvard, and, as always, this unfortunately meant being back with his parents. Some breaks he got rather lucky…an invitation, perhaps, to visit Europe with male friends of his with their families…or, simply being allowed to stay at Harvard when his parents went on trips that never seemed to include him. But no…this break, like many, many others, he was unfortunate, and was doomed to simply drown in misery, like always. Sometimes he wondered that he had not died already.
So. It was back to hell…
Adjusting his scarf against the bitter November chill, he gritted his teeth, rolled his eyes, and picked up his bag, and slowly, as slowly as possible, walked to the front door. He could feel his blood already coursing with anger…rage…hatred. It was ridiculous. Here he was, twenty years old, a year away from graduating college with honors, and he was still treated like a prisoner in his own home…a child. Then he laughed and smirked a little, bitterly. Home…had it ever been home? No. Never. He knew full well the day his parents stopped treating him like a burden would be the day they both died, left this world. He knew it was terrible to think this way, but most days he wished they both would die, and leave him to be free. But he could not help the way he felt. Long, long ago, when he was a small child, and then early teenager, he had loved his parents. Looked up to them. Admired them…admired his father, who had always beat him and berated him for no apparent reason…adored his mother, who was always so cold to him…so unfeeling. But some time, long, long ago, around the tender age of fourteen, those feelings had all stopped. Those feelings of love, all of those hidden desires that some day they both would change, and love him as he loved them, died. They had simply burned into bitter black ashes, and in their place was left hatred. Disgust. Embarrassment that he was even related to two such pathetic individuals. They would never, ever see him as nothing more than an embarrassment. A burden. A failure. That would never change. But, somehow, he didn't care anymore…or, at least, not as much as he had when he was small. No. Not at all. Not by far.
Steeling himself, he rang the doorbell, already feeling his heart pumping, racing in anger at the prospect of facing his father. An elderly, skeletally thin male servant with gray hair answered the door and let him in. The air smelled rather dusty, for some reason, but at least it was warm. A fierce bellow drew him to his father's study. "Boy! Get in here!"
The servant gently took his bag from him, and Cal nodded curtly in thanks. Mussing up his hair a little more, he walked to his father's study, wishing the bastard would shut up. It was nine in the evening. He had wished his parents were both asleep. That, at least, would have given him at least one night of peace and solitude.
Not even bothering to take off his black coat and gloves, he stiffly entered.
"Well hello to you too, Father," he said sarcastically, standing there, again feeling his heart race.
He longed to punch him…and he certainly would if the bastard tried anything tonight in the way of hurting him. He had already had to contend with an umpteenth black eye for going back to school after the summer holidays…he, at least, wanted to go back to school after at least one break with no injuries… At least not ones other individuals could see when he was clothed.
Standing up, Nathan Hockley slammed his fist on the table as he bolted over to his son. "Don't you dare give me your lip, you ungrateful son of a bitch," he snarled.
Surprisingly, Cal couldn't smell any brandy, or any liquor at all. This was indeed a first of sorts. But he found himself wishing his father were drunk. He wasn't as terrible when he was, strangely enough.
He rolled his eyes. "Goodness. What am I supposed to have done now? I can assure you, I just got home barely five minutes ago. Whatever broke, it wasn't me."
His father's face turned red. But, predictably, his tuxedo was perfect as always, his hair still slicked back after a long, successful day's work at Hockley Steel.
"You think you're so smart, boy. So damn clever. But I'll tell you what you've done! Please explain to me why George Tanner's daughter paid you a visit one weekend at Harvard at the end of October, and then attempted to bribe her maid so her parents wouldn't discover she stayed overnight! You dishonored her, and her reputation, and not to mention, George is one of my good friends, and, more importantly, my business partner! Now you had damn better well hope she won't be expecting a bastard anytime soon!"
Cal stared at him, wishing the older man would die. It was none of his father's business when he slept with women…or spent time with them, even.
Cal scoffed. "Please, Father. I can assure you she will not be expecting, and all we did was talk, spend time together. Besides, last I checked, it was not illegal to receive a visit from a friend of the opposite sex, and spend time with them."
True, they had certainly done more than talk…he still had the nail marks on his back to prove it. And helping her into her corset had almost been as enjoyable as helping her out of it… But he was not about to let his father know what they had done. Or anyone, for that matter. Elizabeth Tanner was eighteen, and very, very beautiful…And very, very wicked and devious. He was not in love with her, and never would be interested in courting her, but he enjoyed her company immensely and she was a very valued friend. He knew he was only one man of many she slept with, as she was only one woman out of many women he himself had been intimate with…But he didn't realize his private, most intimate matters were such a manner of public scrutiny, knowledge, argument and discussion like this. It enraged him.
His father scoffed. "You are full of it, boy, you know that? And I know you're not the most innocent when it comes to dishonoring women…Why everyone with eyes could see the way you were looking at the Brenner girl at the end of summer gala, and she at you…"
Cal scoffed, looking his father right in the eye. "Oh, that's rich, Father, coming from you. So I 'dishonor women,' do I? I hardly dishonor them…They enjoy my company, and I theirs. Not to mention, I actually do treat them with respect and decency…qualities you, however, lack…And besides, you openly leer at young girls at parties…nobody else can see it, but I can. I know all you're thinking is how to get them alone and then you can be as disgusting and 'dishonorable' as you plainly are with them…It's quite sick, to say the least… "
Here Nathan grabbed his collar roughly, shaking him. "Oh, boy, shut up! What I do is my private affair, not yours! And besides, I am a respected businessman, a man with a wife, and great wealth and business! I have a damn lot more to show for myself than you! In fact, the only blight on my person is you! Your mother and I are so embarrassed half the time we can't even bear to show our faces in public because of you! But at least you don't ruin our popularity, and what a damn relief and shock that is! And you hardly honor women by having them on their backs all the time! But, if you ever dare to speak to me like that ever again, I'll beat you so bad…"
Cal smirked a little. But then the smirk vanished, leaving in its place a hardened, even expression. "Go ahead, Father. Try. But I am not the scared little boy I once was that you could make cry and beat into submission. If you lay even a finger on me tonight, or ever again, I swear to God I will snap your neck so you never walk again. Try me."
His heart was racing…oh how he longed to do it. Have his father screaming in agony…Even going to jail would be heaven compared to this…He knew he was a perfectly capable fighter now…could throw a punch magnificently…
Nathan grimaced. His face twitched, and then he viciously punched Cal square in the eye. Cal groaned a little in agony, cursing in his head. He knew he would have a terrible black eye again…
"I'll do that to you, boy, long before you ever do that to me. You honestly think you can win against me? You've never been able to. You can't now. And you never will. And besides, I have news for you."
Here he punched Cal in the stomach. Cal doubled over, gasping for air. But Nathan roughly pulled him up, taking him by the collar and pinning him against the bookshelf.
"I swear to God. If you ever get some girl pregnant out of wedlock, you'll be cut off, and disowned. Mark my words. You'll make a terrible heir, and I'd like to do that as is, but I can't die and not leave my company to someone of my own blood…even if the man I do give it to is a pathetic excuse of a son and man like you are. But I'm warning you…if you do…that will be that. I can't exactly count on you to do the honorable thing and propose, either, so maybe this will serve as warning. You'll be on your knees begging in the streets forever if you do. And don't think that you'll be able to get it all back when I die…I can assure you, I'll have my assets all protected."
Cal stared, feeling shocked along with his anger. So the bastard thought he could control his actions like this? It was so drastic, so inhumane… Being disowned…but oddly, somehow, it would be heaven. Except for the having no money part…
Cal scoffed, feeling brave despite his pain. No, his father did not scare him anymore…that was for certain. That had stopped in his teenage years…
"Being disowned would be heaven if it meant not having to be a part of your family ever again. Besides, you know that I can run your godforsaken company far better than you can…or even Grandfather. You may think I'm a useless dolt in everything else, but I am very good with figures and strategy. And you know that."
Cal rather thought he had impressed his father with his comeback. He did like Hockley Steel himself but he loved insulting it to get his father's ire up…
The older man's eyes had widened, and he had seemed lost for words. Cal rather thought, maybe, just maybe, he had won for once.
He only received another sharp, painful blow to the stomach. "Like I said, boy. Mark my words…God I wish you had never been born…that your mother would have miscarried you. We both do. You were pathetic even as a small boy, always crying…always so damn needy…But no matter, I don't care to waste any more of my breath or time on you tonight. Now leave my sight!"
"Gladly," Cal said bitterly. That was only what seemed the thousandth time he had heard all of that. Grimacing, he slowly walked upstairs, up all the labyrinthine, endless staircases, wincing in agony. He finally reached his bedroom and drew himself a hot bath, not wishing the servants to see him like this. Or to bother them. No. He wanted peace and quiet tonight.
He looked in the mirror. His handsome face was now marred by the large black bruise under his right eye. But at least it wasn't as bad as some other injuries he had suffered in the past, injuries that were too numerous to even count at this point…almost.
As he sat in the hot water, inspecting the large bruise now on his stomach, his blood raced again. God he wished his parents would die…that the mansion would burn down with both of them in it when he returned to school…he wished… He wished so many things.
The next morning, he got up and dressed, already dreading breakfast. He left his dark brown hair loose and tousled like he always did. Fixing his dark blue vest one more time, he walked downstairs.
His mother and father were already seated, being served by the servants.
His mother looked at him, her face showing plain disinterest, but she got up nonetheless.
"Caledon," she said coolly, going to him and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. If one could even call it that.
"Hello Mother," he said stiffly, wanting to gag at her familiar perfume.
She then pulled back and cast a cursory glance over her son. "Well, at least you've grown up to be a very handsome young man, despite the bruise you've managed to give yourself again. We have at least that going for us, your father and I. I should simply die of shame if you were not, like the Josephine's son. He looks like a toad." Here she shuddered. "Martha is a very dear friend of mine, but…" She trailed off.
Cal stared in disbelief at her vanity and shrewish nature. For a woman so beautiful despite her age, a woman so cultured and as perfect a first-class lady as any girl could ever aspire to be, or ever hope to be, she was a terrible woman inside. It was the same with his father…For a man so classically handsome (at least in all the women's opinions), so universally loved, intelligent and a successful businessman… and the perfect first-class man…he was a terrible man. A demon.
He rolled his eyes at her poor excuse of a compliment. "Mother, I'm hungry. Can you let me sit down?"
She blinked. "Harvard has made you even more mouthy, hasn't it? But you always have been unintelligent, haven't you?"
"Don't you dare talk to your mother that way ever again, boy!" His father stared at him with utter menace.
Cal went and sat down then, unable to stand it any longer, wishing the metaphorical axe could hit him now. Simply strike him.
The meal at first went smoothly, each Hockley quiet, but sooner rather than later the storm broke.
Marie Hockley stared at her son critically as she sipped her tea. Upon setting her cup down, she said, "Caledon, despite your physical appearance, your father and I are afraid you don't have anything else going for you. We were so disappointed to learn you were only second in your class instead of first…You aren't that intelligent, that much is certainly true, but we fear you simply don't try hard enough."
Here it went, again. Cal took a sip of his coffee. He was thinking of how wonderful it would be to be outside…maybe even riding his horse, even in the cold.
He tousled his hair. "Mother, I think you and Father would be pleased to know I scored highest in my class on our midterms."
It was indeed the truth.
He leaned back in his chair, then, and Marie said, "Caledon! Sit up straight! That's unseemly!"
Slowly, he did so. He hoped it would irritate her that he didn't do it at normal speed.
Then his father chimed in. "Well all that tells us is that you are lazy. You spend all your time out gallivanting with whores, and being a drunken fool with your friends, or even playing that damn ice hockey, instead of devoting time to your studies."
Cal gritted his teeth. "I can assure you, Father, and Mother, I do study."
Marie sniffed. "Apparently not hard enough. Do try and make first at least next year, will you?"
He took another sip of coffee, actually relishing the burning sensation in his throat.
And then Marie spoke again. "And, Caledon, when are you going to settle down and get married? Have a family?"
He almost choked. Putting his coffee down, he gritted his teeth at his mother and attempted to smile. "Ah…Mother…I am only twenty. I still have a year and a half of college left. And besides, I do not yet have a means of supporting a wife and family yet…at least not until I graduate and start work with Father."
Marie only shook her head in disappointment. "Well you had better become more mature soon after you graduate, then. But there are lots of fine young girls that would love to marry you someday…the Harrington's daughter, for one…and oh, my good friend Caroline's daughter…they will all make fine young ladies and wives, mark my words."
And here she began to list all the 'fine young ladies' she felt would make perfect wives for him. To his disgust, his father heartily approved at each one…
Cal felt like gagging at all of the endless suggestions. They were all so foolish, flighty and boring. And snobby…Not to mention, not that attractive… He felt…no…he just knew that he would be miserable with any and all of them. But trying to be polite, he said, "Mother, I don't feel that I would be the best match for them, truthfully. But they are all lovely and accomplished young ladies, I am sure."
Marie only looked at him with pure disgust and shock, and then looked to her husband.
"Oh, Marie, I don't know why you're so worried… he'll certainly have a family soon enough, what with the way he goes through women."
Cal could feel his blood pumping in anger again. How dare he…
And then his father spoke again.
"Besides, I know the DeWitt Bukaters have a young daughter that I feel would make the perfect wife for you. She is but seven now, but still a remarkable young lady already…"
Now, oh now Cal felt like gagging. His father couldn't be suggesting that he marry a child, could he? Somehow he knew he had probably mistaken that…simply heard wrong. At least he hoped… But with his parents, he never knew. But if he was, that was…that was just sick. Plain sick! Inhumane…He would never be able to stomach, bear, that. He would feel so guilty and like a monster…
Trying not to choke, he said, coughing slightly from swallowing his beverage too quickly, he said, "Father…you…you can't possibly be suggesting that I marry a…a mere child, are you?"
Here Nathan Hockley looked at his son with perhaps the purest loathing he had ever looked at him in all his twenty years…a record, that. "You really are even stupider than I had thought, are you? Of course not! We would wait to set the engagement when she is of proper marriageable and childbearing age. And I don't see what you could possibly have to complain about with this one. Her parents are fine people…and the young girl is very pretty and accomplished already. Simply bound to be a fine young woman when she matures…"
He rolled his eyes, taking another sip. He had met the DeWitt Bukaters on many occasions before, of course, but never their daughter. He didn't even know her name, just knew that she was small…At least her parents were nice. Her mother in particular was a very agreeable woman. Ruth. Being their son-in-law wouldn't be so very terrible…but he still resented possibly having to marry their daughter, whom he had never so much as met…He could only pray that she wouldn't be as foolish, stupid, flighty, and boring and snobby as all of his parent's picks heretofore when she finally matured…If she indeed ended up being the chosen one for him…
Hoping the conversation would draw to an end finally, all Marie said was, "I do agree, Caledon. I am good friends with Ruth, as you know…her daughter is very, very agreeable looking. You would make fine young children someday."
Now Cal felt like choking again. It felt sick, discussing having children with a mere child at this point in time someday…
Feeling he wanted to finally draw the upper hand and have the horrid discussion draw to a close, he said, "Oh, why don't I simply marry the Butler's daughter? She's fifteen now, and a perfect young lady."
True, like all the others, the suggestion turned his stomach, but he hoped this, at least, would cause his parents to stop his torment on this subject. At least for a little while, at least. The Butlers were notorious for being new money, and he knew, better than anyone else, how his parents hated them, as the entire old money crowd did.
Now Marie shuddered. "Oh, Caledon, don't be ridiculous! She's far too pudgy for you anyway."
Cal simply stared at her, dumbstruck. That…that remark had been so rude. He could only imagine how the Butler girl would feel if she had been sitting here now…True, he wasn't interested in her in the least, but…Now he felt a little guilty bringing her up.
Nathan scoffed and then banged his fist on the table. "As if we would ever marry you off to a gutter rat family like that. God, you amaze me with your stupidity…"
Marie cast a pompous, disappointed look at her son and then, suddenly simpering, went over and kissed her husband on the cheek.
"Oh, Nathan, do not get so worked up over him. I know it's hard, but…your heart…the doctor said not to let yourself get so stressed."
Cal watched them with pure disgust. Yes…his father's heart. His wonderful, failing heart. The doctor said he would be lucky to live past sixty…He was fifty-three now. That was still light years away, however. Unfortunately.
His father looked at his wife and then gave her a cold look. "How am I supposed to feel when all that waste of space does is disappoint the both of us, day in and day out?"
Marie stared at her husband. "I do agree, Nathan, but…I care about you, is all. I do love you, and do not want to lose you any earlier than necessary."
Nathan suddenly kissed her on the cheek, but then pulled back. "Why aren't you wearing the earrings I bought you last week?"
"Oh." She simpered. "I saw the pair that Martha's husband bought her when last we all had tea, and they appealed to me far more… It's such a shame Martha can't join us women for tea later today, what with her…"
Normally, whenever Marie Hockley said she wanted any material possession, which happened as often as she drew breath, Nathan Hockley granted her wish. It was so very odd that his parents seemed to…like each other…maybe even love…when they so very rarely liked anything.
But, on this cold November morning, the man flew into a rage. Not uncommon, of course, but…
Standing up, he grabbed her and said, "Oh. So you desire Martha's husband, do you? Is that why you want the earrings he got for her?"
Marie's eyes widened. "Oh, no, Nathan! You've got it all wrong! They were simply more…"
Whack. Cal's eyes widened. It was so strange…he had never seen his father raise even a finger to his mother. True, he made rude comments sometimes, even in public, but they were very rare…on the whole he rather adored her. Or seemed to.
It was odd. He felt he should stop it but at the same time did not want to get involved. He wondered, vaguely, which parent he wanted to triumph most. He did not know. He hated them both.
Nathan grabbed her, shaking her roughly. "So it is a greedy, cheating little slut, isn't it? Isn't it? Oh, look at me when I talk to you, woman!"
"N…n…No, Nathan! I…I didn't…I…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I was just being greedy and selfish and got carried away. P…please."
The woman's elegant updo had begun to come down and she was crying. There was a mark on her cheek. Her perfect, expensive, cream-colored dress was now wrinkled slightly from her husband's rough handling.
Suddenly, he stopped. The older man and woman looked at each other and then she leaned in and kissed him. He gradually embraced her.
"Marie, you make me do this. You know that. But I will get you an even better pair than Martha's husband did."
Then, perhaps most bizarrely, she began smiling, literally afloat with happiness. "Oh, Nathan, thank you. Thank you! You are the most perfect husband…I do love you. You know that, don't you? I will try and not be so greedy."
Cal stared in utter disbelief at the exchange. His mother was so messed up… and especially his father.
Nathan smirked widely. "I know, Marie. I do love you, too. And at least I can train you, unlike our son." She giggled happily.
Feeling he should finally take his leave, Cal said, "I'm going to go ride my horse." He would do anything to get out of here for even a little while…Even cut off his own arm…
He was ignored as Marie lovingly helped her husband into his coat and kissed him as he left for work.
He had just reached the staircase when he heard his mother coolly call, "Do look presentable when you get back. I am having friends over for tea. Do not embarrass me."
Going upstairs to get his coat and scarf, as well as riding boots, he said, under his breath, "I can't imagine wanting to do that, Mother."
The incident from breakfast still plagued him, though. But only a little.
Though it was a gray, cold day, the fresh air felt good, and Cal breathed in deep as he went to the stables. At least this offered him a little bit of freedom.
But he still couldn't help going to a nearby tree and punching it as hard as he could. He imagined his father's blasted face when he did it. Regretting it, he held his hand and bent over and cursed to himself. It hurt yes, but at least he hadn't broken it…Thankfully his hand stopped throbbing sooner rather than later.
Reaching the stables, he opened the door and grinned a little as he finally saw his prized horse. It had won him many jumping and riding competitions in the past, despite its old age.
The black stallion whinnied in appreciation and cantered over to him, nuzzling himself in Cal's shoulder. He smirked as he petted the fine black coat.
"At least you don't hate me and are happy to see me, unlike anyone else here," he said.
He wasn't always so sullen and serious like he was around his parents…no. Not at all. He was, on the contrary, a very upbeat and generally happy person…when he wasn't forced to be around them. Being away from them, doing things he loved, made him happy and changed him to his former, usual self…
Cal fed him a bit of sugar and then, finally, saddled up and began riding. He felt like jumping first, and then simply racing as fast as possible today. Anything to get his anger out…
And as he rode, enjoying it immensely, he thought that, even if you were miserable, it was wonderful to be rich, as it always afforded you ample opportunities to amuse yourself and have fun…to escape the misery…even if it couldn't be escaped for long.
Yes…it was wonderful to be rich. Even if you were miserable sometimes…
After a simply wonderful three hours riding, Cal groaned and cursed in his head. He had taken off his coat and vest after awhile, having grown too warm, and as a result, ridden only in his black dress pants and stark white dress-shirt. He had slipped while dismounting and as a result, his shirt was now torn and muddy. He hadn't minded falling of course…he had even laughed about it…but he knew full well his mother and her foolish, snobby friends were having tea in the parlor right now…the only feasible entrance from the stables. He simply knew he would have hell to pay for this…
Gritting his teeth, he walked to the outside parlor entrance and went in.
Like clockwork, there they all were, sitting there like colorful, snobby butterflies in all their fancy dresses and hats and gloves…He hated them all. But then, strangely, he noticed Ruth DeWitt Bukater there. He smirked in his head. All right…he hated all of them but one. Clearly he had been mistaken.
They all looked at him. Marie Hockley, of course, made a big, fake show of pretending to be delighted to see her son, but Cal could see the look of pure disgust on her face, that curl and upturn of her nose at the sight of his soiled and tattered shirt.
"Darling, how lovely to see you! And whatever happened to your shirt? I do hope you did not injure yourself while riding…"
She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, embracing him slightly, her nails digging into his arms, but then, so quiet only he could hear, she hissed into his ear, "Do go upstairs and change your clothes, and then come back down and look presentable. You look like a complete mess. And you smell like a horse. You never fail to embarrass me."
Rolling his eyes in his head, he said, as she let him go, "Ladies, do excuse my appearance today. I apologize profusely for my interruption of your private time. It is entirely my fault."
He smiled as best he could. They all tittered, and Samantha Cuttright said, "Oh, it's perfectly fine, Caledon. You're looking quite well. Harvard suits you."
He smiled, though privately he thought she looked like a fat, snobby frog in her mint green ensemble.
Make that a fat, snobby frog with wrinkles…
All the other ladies agreed, and he began to feel even more uncomfortable…goodness…most of the women, who were all around his mother's age, no less, save for Ruth and a handful of others, were looking at him like they wanted nothing more than for him to be nude right then…
"Thank you, Mrs. Cuttright. You are looking quite lovely, too. All of you are, actually. Forgive me."
He grinned again, privately wanting to run back out to the stables…
All the ladies tittered in delight again, and then Ruth DeWitt Bukater said, "Mr. Hockley, whatever happened to your eye? I do hope it isn't troubling you."
Cal smiled a bit at her, this time genuinely. "Oh, I do thank you for the concern, Mrs. DeWitt Bukater, but I simply injured myself playing ice hockey at Harvard shortly before break. It's nothing to be concerned about."
All the ladies seemed to gasp in shock and sympathy, save for his mother of course, and then, giving him a pointed look as she looked at him, said, "Oh darling, do go and change, and bathe, and then I can have a servant come and get you some ice to put on it again. Do hurry though…We'll all be delighted to hear more stories about Harvard."
It amazed him how good of an actress his mother was.
Looking at each of the ladies in turn, he nodded his head, and smiled. "As you wish, Mother. Ladies, it was lovely to see all of you, and I look forward to joining you again within the hour."
And with that, he took his leave. Upon reaching the staircase, he paused and listened, leaning against the wall, smirking at all the comments and titters the ladies were exchanging.
One after the other, it seemed, it started.
"Oh, Marie, he is very handsome."
"Oh, yes, very!"
"I do agree…"
One after the other, they all agreed.
Then Mrs. Cuttright chimed in again. "My daughter is simply enamored with him, as all the young girls are…"
He smirked even wider. So Mrs. Cuttright's equally snobby, foolish, unattractive daughter found him attractive…That was certainly something to jump for joy about…The girl was sixteen and couldn't even multiply simple figures…
All the other ladies, again, save for Ruth, of course, said their daughters also loved him, which actually was the truth, and then it was all agreed upon that Cal was the most handsome and eligible bachelor of first-class…
His amusement growing exponentially, he felt at least a little genuinely mollified when he heard Ruth say, "Marie, he is a very handsome, fine and accomplished young man. I can only hope my Rose will be his lucky bride someday!"
The ladies all enthusiastically agreed again, and then Mrs. Cuttright chimed in again, "Oh he will certainly make a fine husband someday. Mark my words."
All the ladies agreed again, and then the conversation generally turned to trivial, foolish things like the upcoming holiday gala, and the latest fashions and gloves…
Cal snorted, smirking. Him? A 'fine husband' someday? Doubtful…
As he slowly trudged up the stairs, dreading going back down there, he somehow mused that he would gladly drown himself now…
A few weeks later, Cal was en route with his parents to the annual Thanksgiving gala.
He looked immaculate, darkly handsome and the purest form of physical perfection, but his mother still dusted off his tuxedo shoulder in disgust.
"You really had to choose this tuxedo instead of your new one I got you, specifically for this?"
Cal looked at her. "Mother, a tuxedo is a tuxedo. I really don't see the difference."
Then, of course, his lovely father had to chime in. "Quit your lip, boy."
Wanting to punch something, Cal simply rolled his eyes, resting his elbow against the automobile window ledge, and his head on his arm. He put his coat on eventually, however.
Soon enough, they reached the shining, ritzy hotel where the party was being held.
They got out, and then, to Cal's shock, a beggar tugged on his long coat hem, looking quite wild and desperate. "Please…sir…Can I at least have a penny? Please? I am so hungry, and it is so cold…"
The old man was very sickly looking and wearing very thin, skeletal clothing, and looked miserable. Cal felt quite…bad, and even would have given him some money, if what had happened next had not transpired.
Nathan roughly picked the man up by the collar and said, "Don't you dare touch my son, you filthy gutter rat! You people belong on the streets…you don't deserve any of our money or charity."
He punched the old man then, breaking his nose, and then dropped him, roughly. The old man groaned.
"I am sorry…I am so sorry, sir…I only meant…"
Stricken, Cal looked at the man in pity. He half wondered if there was a way to slip him money discreetly.
The man's long, flyaway hair (too long to be dignified or proper, really) and beard were now streaked with crimson blood, leaking from his nose. With effort, he picked himself up and limped away down the street, disappearing into a distant alleyway.
Nathan leaned in close to Cal and said, "Don't ever associate with gutter rats, boy. You're even more of a disgrace if you do. I'll cut you off if I ever see you give money to one, or even give charity to one. Mark my words."
Glaring at Cal, breathing hard, he allowed his wife to fix his bow tie as he composed himself and then whistled rudely to Cal to get beside them as they entered the party…the perfect Hockley family, the king, queen and young prince of first-class…
Later, as the night wore on, Cal was extremely bored. Usually he actually enjoyed this party, but not tonight. He could feel how his heart had pounded from the moment he had entered at all the beautiful young girls…some he was quite familiar with intimately, and some he was not. And he could feel how it was still pounding now. Racing, actually, as he caught sight of seventeen-year old Stephanie Harper, of the prominent Harper family…She seemed to taunt him as she smiled at him from afar across the room, and as they had danced he had wanted nothing more than to take her then and there…
He longed to take her brunette hair down from her elegant updo…free her of her dress and corset, beautiful though the dress and corset no doubt were…
He finally got his chance two hours later when he managed to catch her alone after the agony and jealousy of watching her dance with many equally besotted gentleman.
He whispered in her ear about how beautiful she looked, and then they had managed to slip away together, to a private room where they finally proceeded to be intimate for an hour and a half. Nobody noticed, of course. Thankfully.
Goodness it was pure ecstasy…at every kiss and touch from her, Cal felt alive, and even more savagely satisfied that he was still expressly doing exactly what he wanted to do, even though his father had forbade him from doing it. 'Dishonoring women.' It made him snort in derision in his head.
And it also was an escape from all those endless taunts of years past…being called worthless…a failure…a bastard…all of it. All the pain…the anger…the agony.
But most of all, it was about outright, beautiful defiance of his father.
And, most importantly, enjoying himself and having a wonderful time with a beautiful woman that he desired and liked the company of…
When it was all over, he had gently helped her back into her corset and dress…he was quite an expert at that…and then kissed her hand and thanked her for a simply wonderful evening.
The devious smirk on her face and sparkle in her eye made him want to devour and kiss her again as she said the pleasure had been all hers.
He left the party with a very satisfied, small smirk on his face, even being able to block out, or at least bear, his parent's annoying usual comments.
He simply closed his eyes and relived the ecstasy, over and over again…
It was good to be Caledon Hockley.
Then, in the month of December, some decided weeks later, not long before Christmas in fact, he was blissfully left home for a day when his parents were out of town.
It was now too cold to ride, and the pond was not quite frozen over enough for skating, so he was reading on his bed, enjoying the warmth, as snow, ice, and bitter wind rattled the windows.
He smirked. Dracula by Bram Stoker was always an old favorite of his…
He then looked up and smiled at a gentle knock at his door. A shy, beautiful young maid had timidly opened the door and looked quite scared at the prospect of facing him or even simply talking to him.
She looked very familiar…he had never known her name, but she had served him many times in the past. Strangely, she always seemed to blush profusely whenever she talked to him, especially in the past…and never seemed to be able to look him in the eye properly. It rather amused him. Perhaps she was sweet on him. The thought made him rather intrigued.
Predictably, the eighteen-year old girl was blushing as red as a rose now, and her knees were shaking. She was of a medium height (though taller rather than shorter), but very slender, and had a beautiful face, dark blue eyes, and very wavy, long blonde hair. He did have to admit he had always found her very attractive, and never more than now. The way she looked in her maid's dress and apron, along with her tights and shiny black shoes, her beauty honestly rivaled that of even the richest first-class girl her age from their circle, even though she was only a maid.
He smiled. "I…I'm t…terribly sorry to disturb, you, sir, but…I was just inquiring if you wanted your linens changed on your bed now, or later."
She was very adorable. The way she was acting was adorable all on its own as well. Amused, he said, "Oh, you don't need to call me 'sir.' You can call me Cal."
She looked at him, then, shifting her gaze from where it had been previously on the carpet, and went wide-eyed. "Oh…F…forgive me, sir, but I could never do that. You…"
He laughed a little, gently. "I assure you, it is perfectly all right. Come in, please."
She started. "But…oh…sir, I do hate to be so rude, but…I…I have work to do. We are terribly understaffed this week and…I mean I would love to, but…But I never could. I…I'm a servant…I could never…"
Cal winked, tousling his hair. "But I thought it was your job to please me, and all your employers," he teased gently.
She blushed even more. "Please, come in. I won't bite."
Biting her lip, she timidly closed the door and came and sat on his bed. Her knees still were shaking.
He laughed a little and closed his book, sitting up beside her.
"What's your name?" He asked her softly.
Turning to face him, she said, "L…Liza."
"Liza. That's very pretty. So, Liza. I'm Cal."
Her name certainly was pretty.
She blushed redder and smiled a little. "Oh, goodness…this…this is so odd. Forgive me, but you…you are much nicer th…than your father and mother."
He laughed a little. "I do apologize for the both of them. But I assure you, it is certainly not just you they treat poorly. Believe me. They both would not win any awards for warmth."
Liza stared at him in surprise. Looking like she was at least a little comfortable at last, she said, "Oh…I…I agree. Dressing your mother is terrible," she said, wincing a little and shuddering. But then her eyes widened, and she said, putting her hands to her face, "Oh…goodness…I do apologize. I mean your mother can be…nice…oh what I said was terrible. I meant no disrespect. Both your parents are lovely people…please don't fire me."
He smiled gently. "You needn't be worried, darling. My parents are not lovely people, by any stretch of the imagination. And why would I fire a maid as sweet and talented as you?"
She blushed again, smiling shyly. Then, gathering her courage, she said, "I have to admit, sir…this is like a dream. But I have to wonder what a man as… as handsome and…and…wealthy and important as you…could possibly find interesting about a boring young maid like me."
She stared at the carpet, then, unable to look at him.
Cal smiled, tousling his hair. "Liza, look at me."
She did so, blushing even more profusely, if such a thing were possible.
"I can assure you. I find you very interesting."
He truly, truly did. She intrigued him, and he also wanted to know more…He felt compelled…
He said, "Tell me about yourself. Anything and everything."
Starting, she looked at him again in surprise. "A…alright. I…I can sing. Truthfully I would like to be a singer someday, but…my…my family doesn't have much money, as you can tell. I send my funds to our house every month. My mother is a maid too, and…my father travels looking for work."
This impressed him that she sang. "Do you have any siblings?"
She nodded. "A little sister. She looks up to me."
Cal nodded. Then, winking, he said, "Sing something."
Liza stared at him in surprise. "What? Oh…sir…I couldn't possibly…"
He grinned. "Sing. Please?"
She blushed again. "Oh…all right…"
Breathing in deep, she sang. Cal was mesmerized, and very impressed. She had a beautiful voice, and never before had he heard a more lovely voice in his life.
When it was over, he clapped. She blushed again and grinned shyly.
"If I had the authority to do it, I would make you a singer overnight." He smiled gently at her.
She looked at him, then, shocked, but…happy. Her blue eyes were shining. He realized, now, she was never more beautiful than when she was smiling like that...He longed to kiss her…
"Th…thank you," she said. "The only other people who compliment me are my family and the other servants I'm friends with," she said, laughing.
Then, she surprised him by saying, "So…tell me about you now."
He grinned. "What do you want to know?"
"Anything." She leaned her elbow on her knee and looked at him, rapt with attention. She smiled.
She looked like an angel…
He smirked and said, "Well…I'm twenty. I go to Harvard. I enjoy playing ice hockey…I'm captain of the Harvard team. And…that's about it. There's nothing especially exciting about me."
She grinned. "Oh but you go to Harvard! I find you very fascinating, sir. You must be very smart…and talented…And…do…do you have a fiancée, or a g…girlfriend?"
He had previously been grinning at her praise, intent on saying thank you, but to his amusement, he realized his previous suspicions about her being sweet on him were correct. Even as she said the words, the disappointment on her face was uncanny at the thought of him saying yes.
He grinned gently. "No, I do not, actually."
She looked back up at him, blinking, and then grinning shyly. "Oh…goodness…that's a surprise! I…I imagine any woman in the world would simply love to marry you."
She blushed again, looking down.
Cal smirked a little. "Hardly, darling."
Feeling bold, he reached over and touched her face gently. "How old are you?" He said gently.
"E…Eighteen." He could practically hear her heart simply racing in her chest at the close contact.
"And, Liza…I do not wish to embarrass you, but I must ask…I've always wondered, but…do you have feelings for me? You did call me handsome earlier," he said, winking and smiling. He meant to tease her, however...even though he wanted to know the answer.
Blushing, she still didn't look at him. "Please look at me," he said, and she did.
"Y…yes. I do confess. You are very handsome, but so…so very nice and interesting. You, you've always been nice to me. I love that... B...But it's not just me…you should hear all the female servants talk about you…especially the older women," she said, blushing even more. "It gets very inappropriate."
He grinned a little more. "Oh, does it?"
She laughed a little, giving him a sidelong look. "Yes."
"Would you care to enlighten me about what it is they all say?"
She gasped, then, looking at him with the utmost horror, turning redder still. "Oh, goodness, sir! I couldn't! It is so improper…and…and I would simply die of embarrassment…"
Grinning gently, he said, "Well, we can't have that, can we?"
She looked at him again, and he said, "Come closer." He spoke softly, and, unable to help himself, he ran a hand through her soft long hair, taking off her hat and effectively undoing the half-up, half down style she had done her hair in, letting it all fall loose down to her waist.
"You're so beautiful," he said, and she blushed again. He smiled gently and said, "And besides…why would I want to be married to a woman of my own class when there's such a talented, interesting and beautiful angel such as yourself around?"
She grinned a little, and, unable to stop himself any longer, he closed the gap between them and kissed her. She was shocked at first, but then eventually responded enthusiastically.
"Sir…I…I can't," she said breathlessly, but he could tell she didn't want the moment to end just as much as he didn't want it to.
"Nobody will know, you can make sure of that," he said softly. He smiled gently. "Of course…do you want to?"
She blushed again, but nodded nonetheless. "But…sir…it's terribly embarrassing, but I've…I've never…"
He guessed what she was trying to say, and smiled softly. "I can assure you, I will be very gentle…But you needn't be embarrassed, darling."
And she blushed even further. "Oh, sir, with you that's entirely unavoidable..."
And so they made love the entire wintry afternoon, locked in his bedroom, both drowning in ecstasy… He had never had a virgin before, but she still pleased him. Her shyness and embarrassment rather endeared her to him. Immensely so, in fact.
And when six 'o clock finally came, he had to laugh as she was practically in a panic as she got dressed in her uniform again, and then when she almost cried as she attempted to fix her hair again, for fear of being found out and berated by the most senior maid, he simply gave her a kiss, and this calmed her nerves. Blushing as she finally gave him one final look, she winked slightly, smiled shyly, and then left his room at last.
Grinning, as he dressed himself, he made sure to dispose of the soiled and blood-stained bed sheets himself…He wanted to keep this as private as she did. For her, yes…but also for himself. His father would no doubt fire her if this were found out…And proceed to endlessly berate him…
At dinner that evening, he was even more amused that, for once, she was helping serve, due to the short staffing situation, and she was blushing even more profusely than usual. She could hardly bear to look him in the eye again, it seemed. But she still caught his eye once and grinned, pointedly, to his amusement.
Wonderfully, they had the mansion to themselves four more times before break ended, and so were able to repeat the ecstasy four more times before he had to return to school.
That last time was the last he ever saw her. When he returned home in the spring, he was saddened to hear that, in February, she had caught a bad case of scarlet fever. This had left her greatly weakened, and pneumonia had been what had ultimately killed her. She had died on a snowy, cold day in March, with her family.
He made sure to buy a large, pink bouquet of roses for her, and to visit her grave one day. Alone. He felt so forlorn. She had been a great friend to him, and meant more to him than perhaps even she knew. She had made being home more bearable…
It struck him that he was only two years older than she had been…she had been so young, and was now dead…
Feeling too dull to cry, numb, he simply touched her grave and kissed it, and then gently set the bouquet down before leaving. He hoped that in her short eighteen years, she had known true happiness, as she had given so much to him.
And on the final day before Cal returned to Harvard for the last stretch of term, he went riding again. The usual had occurred…arguments…his father abusing him…the usual.
Yes. It was good to be rich…even if the misery was only escapable for only a little while.