“Yes,” said Alice, reluctantly. “But then I’ll have—the house to attend to.”
“You should think it over,” said Delphine. “You’re smarter than anyone gives you credit for. You were always good with sums, I remember.”
Alice sat with these words for a moment, uncertain what to do with them. She tried to remember if she had ever been given a compliment in her life that was unrelated to her appearance or her attire.
“May I ask you something?” said Delphine. And before Alice could respond, she ventured forth: “Do you ever worry that being born into money has stunted us?”
Alice blanched.
“I don’t mean anything by it,” said Delphine. “It’s just—lately I’ve been wondering whether having all of our material needs met from birth has been a positive aspect of our lives. It seems to me it may have resulted in some absence of yearning or striving in us. The quest, I like to call it. When one’s parents or grandparents have already quested and conquered, what is there for subsequent generations to do?”
She paused here, gazing off into some distance, thinking. “This,” she said, “is the expectation I most want to defy.”
Alice was frozen. She had no idea what she could possibly say. To talk about money ran contrary to every instruction she had ever been given in her life. It felt practically sinful. A long silence followed, until Delphine finally broke it.
“Think it over, anyway, Bunny,” she said. “The college question, I mean. George has—had—a very good friend who teaches at Vassar. How far is Vassar from Albany?”
But Alice was shaking her head. “Peter wouldn’t like it,” she said. The truth was: she wouldn’t like it either. But she felt suddenly that she did not want to let Delphine down, to deflate the impression she had of Alice, in this moment.
Delphine paused. “Why not, do you think?”
“Well, he has a lot of ideas about what I should do each day,” said Alice. “He probably wouldn’t believe I had time to do that too.”
Delphine nodded. “And if you insisted?” she said.
Alice almost laughed. The idea of insisting on anything, when it came to Peter, was unimaginable to her. She wasn’t—frightened of him, exactly, though there had been one or two incidents that caused alarm. It was more that she had come to see herself nearly exclusively through his eyes, and therefore being in his good graces was the easiest way to achieve a sense of well-being.
“I wouldn’t insist,” she said, simply.
“You know,” said Delphine, “Peter has always struck me as someone with more bark than bite.”
Delphine smiled.
“But you’re an adult,” said Delphine. “And you know him better than I do.”
• • •
When Alice emerged from Delphine’s room, it was close to three in the morning, and sounds of snoring were echoing throughout the house. She felt sober now. She walked on the balls of her feet, avoiding floorboards she knew to make noise. Passing Bear’s room, she opened the door to gaze, at last, upon his sleeping form; and then she continued to the room she shared with Peter.
Inside, she found her husband awake.
He was lying on his back, his hands behind his head, his fine thin torso bare, and just visible in the moonlight.
He turned his head slowly in her direction, but said nothing.
Alice undressed, awkwardly, before him, feeling his appraising gaze, despite the dark. Already, she could feel the food and drink from the weeklong party making itself visible in her waistline, and she made a note to herself to eat nothing all day tomorrow—not until dinner, at least.
She pulled her nightgown over her head and lowered herself into bed next to Peter.
“Where have you been?” he asked her.
“In Bear’s room,” she said, automatically. “He was restless.” She wasn’t certain why, but it felt dangerous to tell him the truth.
For a long moment, Peter was silent, and she thought perhaps he had gone back to sleep.
But then he turned over, and the expression on his face was cold.
“You’re lying,” said Peter. “I checked in Bear’s room. I looked all over the grounds for you.”
He raised himself up on one elbow, suddenly. Alice tensed.
“Where were you?” he asked again. In his voice she recognized danger.
“I did go to Bear’s room,” she said. “Twice. But I also went to Delphine’s room.”
Peter paused, seemingly caught off guard. She knew this wasn’t the answer he was anticipating. When they were first married, she had made a terrible mistake at one of these parties, when she was too drunk to understand what was happening. Her mistake, she understood, had been drinking so much. The rest was someone else’s fault. A former friend of Peter’s, who was no longer invited to their parties.
“Why on earth were you in Delphine’s room?” he said.
“To check on her,” said Alice. “I heard her crying. And Merrill had said that horrible thing.”
Peter was silent for a moment. And then came off his elbow and lay back down, the conversation finished.
Alice closed her eyes. She pictured Delphine’s kind face, her dark hair, her upright posture. The well-being and confidence that emanated from her person, despite her recent loss.
Peter spoke again.
“I know she’s your sister, Alice,” he said. “And I’m sorry to say this. But I’d stay away from Delphine. She’s always seemed manipulative to me.”
