Page 43 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
I roll my eyes, pottering around, tidying some things up. “Never is, is it?”
“Seriously,” she says, straight faced. “It was Carter’s fault.”
“Carter?” I whip my head around. “As in Carter Holland?”
She blinks a couple times as if I’m behind. “Yeah, he joined my school on Thursday.”
“Carter joined Darcy?” I arch a brow, tilt my head. “I didn’t even know he was in London.”
“Oh my goodness, Phoebe,” she throws her hands up, exasperated. “Keep up! He got kicked out of his old boarding school so now he’s at Darcy!”
“Sorry,” I mutter. She’s very feisty, actually. “And you don’t like him or…?”
She sighs, kicks her legs and leans back against my mirror. “Well…I don’t know. I don’t think so? He’s handsome but so is Connie. He’s just annoying. Like, really annoying.”
“Like Connie, then?”
“A more aggravating version.”
I wince.
She nods, eyebrows raised.
I walk into my wardrobe to throw some clothes on—nothing special. I don’t plan to leave the house again today. Evangeline follows me in which some people might think annoying but it’s not. I love having her around. Her brother died, my sister left. We’re both a bit lonely and she’s always been the younger sister I never had. I wouldn’t even call her a friend, she’s just my non-biological sister—it’s a relationship that swims deeper than friendship. Calling her a friend would be diminishing.
“I think Carter has a crush on me, though.”
I laugh. “Why do you think that?”
“You just know, don’t you? And plus, he’d have to be gay not to fancy me.”
“Evangeline!” I spin around. “You can’t say that.”
“Oh, whatever,” she rolls her eyes. “Eh, anyways, I don’t care about him—can I have this?” She picks up a Chanel costume jewellery necklace from the floor, I see it swinging from her fingers in the mirror and nod.
She starts wandering around my wardrobe, flicking through the racks and trying on handbags as if this is the superbrands level at Harrods.
Once I'm dressed, I lay on my bed, flicking through the latest copy of Vanity Fair that my sister was featured in. It’s the only way of communicating with her these days. I tune into E!, buy every magazine, stalk every film premiere. She rarely calls. She’s too busy being in love and I wonder if this is how I was with Arthur—completely consumed by him that I couldn’t see anything else.
That’s why I don’t really blame her. This was me to an extent. Sure, I didn’t pack up and leave everyone behind but mentally I think I might’ve done.
“What about this?” Evangeline pops out of my wardrobe, balancing a tiara on her head. “Actually, is this one of my family’s heirlooms?”
“Oh my god—no! Take that off!” I jump up, run over to her, carefully remove it off her head and put it back where it belongs—on a high shelf with all my other grade-A burglary items.
I put my hand to my chest, feel my heart slow back down to its normal pace. “Jesus, you almost gave me a heart attack!”
She screws her face up. “What’s so special about it? Is it real?”
“No,” I roll my eyes. “It’s just platinum.”
She gives me a funny look. “Where’d you get one of them from?”
I swallow. “Your brother gave it to me.”
She laughs. “I beg your finest pardon.”
I nod, staring at it, glistening on the shelf. Have I ever worn it? Absolutely not. Do I ever plan to wear it? Nope. Do I even have anywhere to wear it? Again, no. But did Arthur buy it for me because I told him once how excited I was to become a princess and wear all the pretty crowns and tiaras? Yes.
