Chapter 1

I studied my mother intently. I looked at her arched eyes as they burned through the dish she was feverishly scrubbing, and her ruby lips, pursed in concentration. Only recently had she begun doing the dishes, ever since I dared to proclaim that washing dishes was the most revolting chore that ever existed. Now it was her job to wash the dishes, and mine to scrub the bathroom. I'd never realized how skilled I'd become at washing china until I saw Mama attempt it for the first time. Since then I made a point to sit at the table and chronicle the spectacle with paper and charcoal.

Wisps of wild auburn hair stuck madly out of her bun, her cheeks were unflatteringly flushed, and yet I could think of no more beautiful a subject than my own mother to draw. Maybe it was because she was my father's favorite also and I aimed to emulate my father in every way. When I was younger he seemed to possess an almost otherworldly perfection, like Hercules and Prince Charming and a thousand other lovable beings combined into one man. And while my idolatry for him has faded with time I can never stop myself from trying to attain that effortless precision that he achieved unknowingly.

My concentration was destroyed when the door flew open and in dashed a skinny creature covered earth and rain water.

"Ah, what a game." He sighed as he plopped his bony body into the chair next mine. At eleven, Jacob Dawson resembled our father as much as I resembled our mother with his hair; stick straight, the color of wheat. His eyes teemed with the color and temperament of the sea and his skin was the kind that bronzed in the sun. The kind I could never seem to attain.

"You smell like a wet dog." I said, wrinkling my nose. The truth was he didn't. He smelled like the rain and the earth and the trees that stretched out and worshipped the marble sky. He smelled like life. At least to me. But those are the things you never say to a younger brother.

"Jack, please go in your room and change, I just cleaned this place!" Our mother's voice began to shrill and I could feel the frustration rising inside her by the heat she was radiating. Jacob, little Jack, did nothing but remove a soggy piece of paper form his pocket.

"I got invited to a party today. These two new girls in my class invited everyone to their house. Can I go." He asked, flashing that winning smile in her direction, but she never looked up.

"We'll see." Replied my mother. Jack frowned.

"But mom, I want to see that house! It supposed to have its own swimming pool and everything! Please, I'll do all my chores this week I promise!" He grinned at her, that famous Jack grin that she couldn't deny. It was my father's same smile.

"Who are these people again?" She said with a sigh.

"Lavinia and Rosalie Hockley."

As if she had just lost all muscle function in her hands my mother dropped the plate she was wiping, letting it shatter at her feet without so much as a glance. She looked strange. Her face, deep red moments ago, was now stark white and her hands began to shake as if she was cold.

"I'm sorry Jack, I-I can't let you go to that party." She stammered, fear was etched in her eyes. I began to get scared.

"Mamma, are you alright?" I asked, rising from my seat to catch her if she fainted. Jack too, started up looking panic stricken.

"I'm fine. I'm sorry." She said, trembling. "Just go to your rooms, and don't tell your father about any of this, understand." Jack opened his mouth to say something but I elbowed him sharply and he followed me upstairs without a word. "And Jacob Dawson I don't want you talking to those children, you hear me?" She called up after him. There were few times in my fourteen years I could remember her voice sounding that grave.

"What was that about?" asked Jack. He seemed half angry and half concerned

"I don't know. One minute she's mad and the next she looks absolutely petrified!" I stayed silent for a moment listening for noises down in the kitchen, hysterical heaves, sobbing. Silence.

"What do you think made her so afraid?" My mind jump to mood swings, to another sibling which I did not want. It replayed the short conversation over and over again until it came up with another source that was far better than a new baby.

"It was the names. When you mentioned their names she got all frantic. What else do you know about these kids?"

"Only that their names are Lavinia and Rosalie and that their wealthy. Very wealthy. But not the kind of wealthy you see here in California. East Coast wealthy. I don't see how Mama could know them."

"Well she was born in the East. At least I think she was since I was born in the East. Maybe she knew them before we were born, before she met Daddy. Or maybe she knows them from Hollywood. Do you think Mr. Hockley invests in moving pictures?" I mused.

"Maybe we can..." Said Jack, a wide, vicious grin spreading across his face, lighting up the gold flecks in his eyes.

"No, Jack. Mama said no. There's a reason she was so afraid when she heard those girls names. These people might be dangerous!" I warned, feeling a little silly for calling two eleven year-old girls dangerous.

"If Mama's so afraid maybe we should go to the party and see if she has anything to be afraid of. Don't you want to know what's up with these people?

I writhed and twisted a stray curl tightly around my index finger. Of course I wanted to know the reason for Mama's terrified rejoinder. I wanted to more than I could say. There is a thirst inside me. A thirst to know deep dark secrets, to lift the gilded veil of human façade and discover the gritty details beneath. I wanted to lift my mother's façade. Yes, I knew it was there, ever since I was a little girl. It's a secret you can see in her eyes when she's really happy or when she's very sad. I can hear it too, sometimes a whisper and sometimes so loud I wonder if anyone else can hear it too. It calls, it screams. But after all these years I can never tell what its saying.

"And since when have you been the one to follow the rules, hypocrite!" I lowered my eyes, he was right. I was being a hypocrite. All those times I had gotten him in trouble, I suppose I owed him.

"Alright, we'll go." I reasoned, he practically knocked me down with his hug.

"Thanks, Eliza. You're my favorite sister, you know that?"

"I'm your only sister." I said, messing his hair with my hand. I could hear it now. Mama's secret. And although I still couldn't find the words I knew I needed to be at that party.

Sneaking out was easy enough; the tricky part was getting there. We walked for what seemed like hours, Jack in his cleanest cotton shirt and me in the white summer dress I had gotten for my thirteenth birthday and never worn. The cheap lacey fabric itched and rustled uncomfortably against my skin but it was the only party dress I owned.

Describing the Hockley's home as a house is not only an understatement, but a lie. The sprawling mansion I saw in front of me, every frosted window glowing in the balmy night, put the White House to shame. It was unlike any other I had ever seen, all stone columns and pure white bricks with a dark green lawn that stretched and rolled like a pasture without the nuisance of animals or insects. The inside was like a heart, a gilded heart, pulsing with vitality as if every dashing man and sparkling lady's hearts beat in unison.

"Jesus, I'm sweating like a-" Jack began.

"You mustn't talk like that anymore!" I scolded." Stand up straight and pull back your shoulders. Try to act…sophisticated."

A mousy maid rushed by, taking one glance at us, before motioning for us to follow. "More guests for Miss Lavinia and Miss Rosalie. How delightful." She said with as much enthusiasm as a stiff. "This way please."

She led us into a room not too far away from where the adults mingled and glasses clinked. This room was quite smaller and filled with children around Jack's age dressed to the best their parents could afford.

"I didn't know it was this fancy!" He cried, growing red in the face. I could only cross my arms and shift my eyes in embarrassment. Not only was I not invited but I felt stark naked. From across the room young boys jumped up and down, hailing Jack to come and join their amusement.

"See ya, Lizzie." And I was left alone in the threshold. And that's where I wanted to stay.

Just then, two identical heads snapped up from a crowd of giggling girls as if they sensed something was amiss. One of them looked my way and pointed, tugging at the others sleeve. The two girls left the group and marched straight up to me.

"Who are you?" One demanded. The other wore a deep quizzical expression.

"You must be the Hockley twins." I said, trying to sound friendly.

"Who are you?" The commanded in perfect unison.

"I'm Eliza. Jack's sister." I pointed to him, the only fair haired boy in a sea of dark curls.

"Ahh!" They both seemed pleased at the connection, laughing giddily at the mention of his name.

"We like your brother." One said dreamily.

"He such a card." The other giggled.

I too laughed at her statement, but for very different reasons. They must have realized it because their haughty attention snapped right back to me. One of them narrowed her obsidian black eyes and reached out her hand as if to strike me. But instead she reached out and tugged on a stray length of scarlet hair.

"You have unusual hair." Said the one, rubbing the ends of it between her fingers. "Is it new?"

"What?"

"Well that can't be your actual hair color." Said the other one. "Nobody can possibly have that color hair. It's absurd." She said primly with a flip of her own dark curls.

"Daddy's secretary Miss Waverly gets her hair colored every month, but she has it colored blonde." The first one sighed. "I asked Mummy if I could have my hair colored like Miss Waverly's but she said the less I am like Miss Waverly the better." The other snickered.

"I assure you, it's real." They didn't look convinced. "I was wondering if I could meet your parents. They're very important people." I hesitated. "I'd love an introduction."

They paused for a moment and looked at each other for quite a long time. They silently communicated for about half a second. Then they smiled at each other, and then at me. Their grins made my skin itch.

"Sure, why not." Said one of them.

"But we're not allowed in the dining." Said the other.
"That's room is for grownups." Her sister agreed.

"We could sneak you through the lounge, of course. But that would be naughty of us."

"Very naughty."

"But Daddy would love to me you. He likes little red headed girls very much." She said in that sweet innocent way children often slip uncomfortable facts about grown ups.

"Alright, I suppose we could do that for you. Jack's sister."

They took my hands and whisked me down a wide empty corridor until we reached a large oak framed door that stood lonely and obsolete at the end of the decorated hall.

"Age before beauty." They giggled, opening the door. I walked right in expecting a room full of light and leather. But before I could react to its vacancy the door shut behind my back, the lock clicking into place and two pairs of patent leather shoes skipped away happily.

"Excellent." I sighed, looking around the room. At the lounge that wasn't a lounge at all but a room full of dusty old furniture and not another door in sight.

I had hoped that there might be something in this room. Something the twins were never aware of: a secret door, a treasure chest, secrets that would explain my mother's terrible fear of the name Hockley. But the only thing left here was a few pieces of innocuous furniture.

I had no desire to pound my fists on that heavy door waiting for someone to come to my rescue and no desire to explain to anyone why I was here in the first place. I sat down at an old grand piano and began to play my heart out.

I can't remember who taught me how to play piano forte. It seemed as if I'd always known how to read music, which keys to press and when. I know I couldn't have just known how to play but when I think back all I can remember is me alone on that piano bench, eyes flitting over music and it pouring out of me like a language I had been born with.

I was so engrossed in my music that I didn't even notice someone had unlocked the door and come in. But as he approached me from behind I began to feel him. I felt his eyes on the back of my neck that sent electricity down my spine. I stopped playing and looked up at him.

"Are you Mr. Hockley?" I inquired, eyeing him up and down. He looked a lot like the twins: fair skin, dark hair. But he did not share their black irises or their air of arrogance. In fact, his face was soft and his eyes were blue like the summer sky.

"Um, no. Not exactly. They call me Master Hockley." He said. I giggled.

"Master, huh? How pretentious of them."

"What are you doing in here?" He asked, approaching cautiously.

"What does it look like? I'm playing piano!"

"Why?"

"You unlocked the door, didn't you? I have your sisters to thank for that. They tricked me." I added, bitterly.

"Yea, they're good at that. I'm Nathan. Nate." He said genially, reaching out his hand.

"Elizabeth. Eliza." I said warily, taking his hand and giving it a gentle shake.

"That's funny. I wouldn't have figured you for an Elizabeth."

"Well, it wasn't my choice was it?" He came over and sat down next to me on the piano bench. The feeling of his legs against my thigh made me uncomfortable. I looked at him incredulously.

"What are you doing?" I asked as he placed his fingers on the ivory keys.

"Well if you want to play piano we'll play together." He said, with a little-boy like easiness that seldom appeared in the likes of adolescents.

"No we won't." I stammered, removing his hands form the piano. "I don't even know you."

"I don't know you either. And you're in my house. But I want to know you." His soft blue eyes met mine and suddenly I became aware that this boy found me attractive. Me. Ginger. Red. Curly Top. How could it be that a girl saddled with so many unflattering monikers could be liked in an instant. And he seemed so sincere.

"You want to get to know me…playing piano. You can't really talk while you're playing piano, you know?"

"You can't?"

"I don't, unless I'm singing. But I don't think we should do that either."

"I think you're right. Do you want to get out of here?" He asked tentatively. The expression on his face was an odd one. Like a person who'd just seen a ghost and found buried treasure all at the same time.

"Yeah." I replied anxiously. He took my hand without any hesitation and led me out of the room just as his sisters came running in, holding onto a pair of metallic scissors. The look of shock as we whisked passed them was one all never forget.

We stopped just before the balcony entrance, a palatial room that led to an even larger one where wealthy adults tittered and laughed. The air just before it was laced with perfume and cigar smoke.

"Nate, I can't go in there." I stated firmly touching the synthetic lace of my skirt.

"You look nice." He said earnestly, placing a hand on my arm.

"Just one, dance. That's all I need."

"Need?" I felt myself slip into the dazed, dreamy state of fancy. I let myself fall, and fall hard. Because like everyone else in this world I loved to be in love.

He wove me through the crowd of beads and taffeta to the center of the glittering room. Women in their sequins and high heels slumped on the shoulders of inebriated men, all sloshed into their own stupor.

They took no notice of us as placed my arms carefully on Nathan's broad shoulders and he slung his arms around my waist. I kept my eyes fixed in the freckles on his neck, trying not to smile or flinch as he breathed warm breaths into my ear.

"Eliza?" I was forced to raise my gaze to meet his face. No matter how much I wanted to keep my indifference to the affections of boys, he was stunning in every way. He had the strong chin, shoulder and soft muscles of a man and the pure eyes and soft lips of a boy. He was what little girls dreamt of as they read tales of handsome young princes rescuing delicate princesses from unseemly ends.

"I just want you to know that…that you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen." My heart stopped and for what reason I didn't know.

"Really?"

"Really." He said, exhaling as if the weight of the world had evaporated off his shoulders. "It's just you've got-"

I didn't care what made him love me. All I cared was that he did. In that moment I decided to let all my childhood resolves about life, and love and practicality slip away. I kissed him first.