Chapter Text
Despite all her years going to parties hosted by the richest men in the world, Gwen didn’t think she’d ever get used to the pure extravagance of gilded lilies and necks drowning in giant pearls. Even coming from wealth not unlike that of the crowd mingling before her, she still marvelled every time at just how far men would go to show off their gold and diamonds to guests from all over the world. Wealth was performance, and this she knew, but there was something about being faced with that fact on such a level as this.
However, despite this fascination, she found herself irremediably bored.
She was, of course, always bored at events like these—even back in England, when she’d had her friends with her to gossip about whatever had caught their fancy—and unfortunately, no amount of sparkling showmanship could truly hold her interest for long. She’d once been told by her parents that parties were fun, that they were places to laugh and enjoy oneself, but she felt no enjoyment as she stood there, leaning against a pillar and occasionally taking a sip of the drink she twirled around in her hand.
“Enjoy it while you can,” her mother had insisted in a whisper as they’d entered and each been handed a tall, thin glass. “After all, it won’t be long before they discover Mr. Addison’s supply. He’s hardly been subtle.”
Gwen had nodded and muttered some sort of agreement, before taking off to find some abandoned corner of Mr. Addison’s ballroom. She couldn’t stand the thought of one of her father’s friends approaching her, asking how she was doing lately and if she was interested in meeting his son who’s a very nice boy, looking for a lovely girl like you. She’d much rather bore herself than be bored by some drunk man with an agenda she couldn’t care less for.
“Tired already?” An even voice next to her asked, interrupting her thoughts. Gwen smiled a bit, turning to see her uncle Elias leaning against the wall near her pillar. He looked just as unhappy to be here as she did, one thing they’d always held in common. His eyes were distant and tired, and, unlike hers, his drink looked nearly empty.
Gwen nodded. “I still can’t believe we had to go to this.”
“Oh, I didn’t have to,” Elias corrected. “Just because my sister is your mother doesn’t mean she’s mine. I could have stayed home if I so wished.”
“So why didn’t you?”
Elias raised his glass, a what-can-you-do sort of look on his face. “The drinks are here. And so is a good friend of mine.”
“What kind of friend?” Gwen asked quietly, raising an eyebrow and grinning.
“That’s enough questions out of you, child,” Elias snapped, putting on a faux-pretentious voice. “Respect your elders.”
“As I thought.”
“Anyway,” Elias continued, smiling a bit himself, though Gwen could tell he was trying not to. “I’m here by choice. No matter how dreary of a choice it is.”
Gwen nodded. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, whatever difference it makes to you. I’m enjoying myself far more now than I was about a minute ago.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Elias said. “As much as I love spending time with my favourite niece, I can do that any time I like. As for Peter…”
“I understand,” Gwen sighed, though she wished it weren’t the case. She’d rather that she and Elias spend the rest of the evening commiserating about the whole event, but she knew he had a point. It wasn’t often he got to spend an evening with his lover, and less so that there were distractions that let the two be close in private without concern arising.
“Knew you would,” Elias replied. He glanced upward and grinned, turning back to Gwen. “Well, speak of the devil. Sorry to disappear on you so quickly.”
“Gwendolyn!” Peter greeted as he approached where she and Elias stood. “Wonderful to see you again. You’ve been well?”
“I’m sure my uncle has told you plenty about how I’ve been,” Gwen replied, her voice just a bit mischievous.
“Oh, there’s little time for talking,” Peter teased, and Elias’ cheeks flushed.
“Peter,”
“I know, I know,” Peter assured him quietly. “I’m sorry. You know I want this secret to be kept just as much as you do.”
“I just worry,” Elias admitted. “Gwen’s father was talking yesterday about a man who was hanged a few states over after he was caught sleeping with his coworker. I suppose I’m just on edge.”
Gwen remembered that. She remembered the vitriol her father had held in his voice, how he’d insisted that “he had it coming to him,” the words he’d used that she hardly dared to even think of. To think he’d been so hateful towards people like his own brother in law, a man who he loved, who he sat and laughed with at dinner, who he talked about business trends and new company plans with.
But more than that, his daughter, who hadn’t thought it was strange to look at the girls in her classes the same way her mother looked at her father until she’d heard about another girl being expelled for that same reason.
“I understand,” Peter replied quietly. “I’ll be more careful.”
“Thank you,” Elias said, giving Peter a grateful smile. “Let’s go find a better room to talk in. This one’s far too crowded.”
Gwen made a motion to follow, before she remembered that a room to talk in didn’t mean a quieter conversation space as far as the two men were concerned. With a sigh, she slumped back against her pillar, studying the crowd once more.
Gilded lilies and giant pearls. All the same displays of wealth. Gwen could practically hear her head screaming with the need for something to do with herself.
She found herself, not for the first time, longing for her friends back in England. When her family had moved to America all those years ago she’d been assured she’d be just as happy here as back home, but so far she was just lonelier. Perhaps she’d simply come at the wrong time. After all, girls her age weren’t supposed to be gossiping in corners anymore. They were supposed to be worrying about finding nice, wealthy men to settle down with.
Gwen supposed she ought to be worrying about that, too. She knew she’d never fall in love with any man, no matter how wealthy or nice, but she wasn’t sure how long she could remain a single woman living with her parents. Of course, Elias had never married, but it was different for him. He was a man, for one. As far as anyone around him was concerned, finding a wife was a priority, but not a necessity.
Perhaps Gwen should simply get over herself. Find a rich man that didn’t disgust her and marry him, become a wife tied to a kitchen with a couple children hanging onto her dress. The picture made her want to gag, but what choice did she have?
She sighed, scanning the crowd yet again, this time trying to pick out a man who she could realistically see herself marrying. They all looked the same, identical haircuts and identical outfits with eyes identical face shapes. Factory-produced, she thought with a wry smile, like the dingy scraps of metal and brick they all owned.
And then Gwen saw her.
Rich burgundy dress the colour of wine, chestnut hair a long cascade of curls down her back and adorned with white flowers. Her hands were covered in white silk gloves, and two layers of pearls hung from her neck. She was leaning against the pillar next to Gwen’s, looking like she’d just escaped a very uncomfortable situation and had finally found a moment of respite against this quartz pillar. Gwen shot her a sympathetic look, and in return she gave a grateful smile, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead in a motion poorly disguised as fixing her hair.
“Hello,” Gwen said awkwardly, realising at perhaps the worst possible moment that she was sorely inexperienced in talking to girls her age.
“Hey,” the girl on the pillar replied, still smiling. “This is some party, isn’t it? All the big cheeses within a hundred miles of New York are here.”
“They certainly are,” Gwen replied. “Which one dragged you here, then?”
This, to her surprise, made the girl laugh. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t a matter of being dragged here. I just walked out of my room and, before I knew it, there was a party! I didn’t even have time to put on a more comfortable dress.”
Gwen stifled a laugh, before she realised what exactly this girl meant. “Wait, then you must be—”
“Lucille Addison,” the girl finished. “But it’ll be just ‘Lucy’ to you.”
Gwen felt her cheeks flush a bit at this, though she hardly allowed herself to read too far into that. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss—I mean, Lucy. Gwendolyn Bouchard. But, er, just ‘Gwen’ to you.”
Lucy grinned. “Lovely to meet you, Gwen. Say, if I didn’t know better I’d say you look pretty unhappy to be here.”
“Oh, you’d be right,” Gwen sighed. “I didn’t even really want to go, and this whole place is just inanely extravagant—” she cut herself off, realising she was talking about Lucy’s own home. “Sorry, I shouldn’t—”
“Don’t be,” Lucille interrupted. “You’re right. My father spared no expense, and that isn’t a compliment. I’ve never understood why rich men need to—”
“Show off so much!” Gwen exclaimed, cutting her off. “Right? I just think it’s excessive. Everyone at the party is just as rich as them, so why do they feel it’s so imperative to cover every surface in diamonds?”
“You just said it,” Lucy pointed out. “These rich men see a hundred other rich men and start to get a little insecure, so what do they do? Show they’re richer.”
“But they aren’t,” Gwen remarked.
“Oh, of course not,” Lucy agreed. “But that’s not the point. As long as everyone thinks they are, they’ve got power.”
Gwen nodded. “I suppose your father is the exception. I’m sure he’s got plenty of extra money, what with the amount of people desperate for liquor.”
“For now,” Lucy agreed. “As soon as he gets copped, though, he’ll be just like the rest of the men here. He’ll buy his way out of anything lasting, but he’ll lose all his power.”
“And you?”
Lucy smiled wryly. “A few less diamonds for Christmas.”
Gwen chuckled. That was how it was for girls like them, wasn’t it? Not involved in anything their fathers did, their only concerns little more than how many diamonds they had and if they could find a husband soon. What a life, Gwen thought.
“Want to dust out?”
Gwen blinked. “Sorry?”
“Leave. Get out of here. It’s boring, and we both hate it here, so let’s take off.”
Gwen glanced back at the crowd, not immediately seeing her father but certain that he was somewhere just outside of her field of vision, waiting to leap out and tell her she was breaking some sort of rule. “Are you sure we’re allowed?”
“Who cares?” Lucy asked, her voice light and devoid of any sort of worry. For a girl stuck at a party, she seemed so free.
Gwen hesitated for a moment, before nodding. “Alright. Why not? I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”
“That’s the spirit,” Lucy said. “Come on. I know a spot.”
The spot in question, as it turned out, ended up being a vast library in the back of Lucy’s house, with a great window looking out over the city. The lights from the buildings in the distance sparkled in a way that made Gwen’s heart soar with awe, and just above, a few faint stars shone even through the bright glow. It wasn’t unlike the views Gwen had seen before even from her own home, and yet she melted a bit at the sight.
“And here I thought you’d be more interested in the books,” Lucy teased, coming up behind Gwen and resting a hand on her shoulder. The contact made Gwen’s heart beat faster, but she pushed the feeling down.
Not allowed, she reminded herself.
“The books are lovely,” Gwen assured her, ducking away from Lucy’s hand in a motion she hoped was subtle.
“You’re a reader, then,” Lucy said. “What kinds of books?”
Gwen shrugged. “Nonfiction, primarily. History, maths, whatever catches my interest.”
Lucy nodded. “That makes sense. I’ve always been a poetry girl myself.” She paused, a look on her face that Gwen had to stop herself from trying to name. “Ever heard of Sappho, by any chance?”
Gwen swallowed. “I’ve…read some of her works.”
Lucy smiled. “And?”
Gwen hesitated for a moment. This was very not allowed. This could get her in trouble with her father, could get Lucy in trouble, could even get them killed if the wrong person found them. And yet, the way Lucy was looking at her made all that fade away.
Could she really have this?
“I thought they were very romantic,” Gwen replied softly, realising just how close to Lucy she was standing.
She didn’t pull away this time.
When Lucy kissed her, a wave of emotions crashed over her, stealing the breath from her lungs. Affection, desire, terror. Everything was so fragile and perfect, and Gwen wanted nothing more than for that terror to last forever if it meant she could spend that forever kissing Lucille Addison. She’d never been in love before, but she could suddenly see a future where she was, where she and Lucy figured out how to make the two of them work. A house for the two of them, with flowers on the lawn and fathers halfway across the country. A home for them, for their love.
For a moment it was perfect.
And then,
“Gwendolyn Eloise Bouchard. What on earth are you doing?”