Guardian Girl (The Chronicles of Staffordshire) (3 page)

“Maybe I should abandon the family and live off the firm? I could do it. I already have more clients than I can handle. The Journal has been kind to me. The apartment isn’t so bad. It’s in a great location. Halfway to the Met. The old man probably wouldn’t even notice I’m gone. Mother might miss me, but not that psychotic prick…”

A staccato trill intruded upon the rider’s silent struggle. In the front seat, the chauffeur lifted the radiophone receiver.

“Good morning, this is Jarrod. Hello, sir. Yes sir. He’s here with me. Yes. We are on our way now to pick up Miss Drummond.” The chauffeur glanced at his charge in the rear view mirror. “No, sir. I do not know. Yes, Master.”

The chauffeur removed the phone from his ear and pressed a button on the center console, dropping the electric window between the seats. “Mr. St. Cloud, your father would like to speak with you.”

“Thank you, Jarrod. Scrambler, please.”

The chauffeur resumed his conversation with the caller. “I’m transferring you now, sir. He’s requested the scrambler. Yes, sir. Scrambling now.”

Jarrod pressed two switches on the radiophone console, replaced the receiver, and closed the window into the passenger compartment.

The passenger exhaled with resignation, grudgingly lifting the rear seat receiver. Every motion suggested a lineage steeped in wealth and education, every action precise, every accent-free word wisely selected, his rugby-tested body uncomfortably erect.

“Good morning, father.”

“Good morning, Rory. I trust you slept well last evening?”

“No father. To be candid, I did not. I slept quite fitfully. But you already know I am not at all in favor of this depraved… ‘Activity’.”

“Rory, we have already discussed this matter. I understand your discomfort. I have indulged your concerns. Now you must move beyond your trivialities. It is well past time for you to fulfill your responsibility to our family.”

“I would hardly call my concerns ‘trivialities’ father. I genuinely like this girl. What you expect me to do to Alicia is barbarous.”

The elder St. Cloud bristled at the son’s choice of words. “The word ‘barbarous,’ my boy, would apply only if you
forced
her to join our family. You are not coercing Alicia to do
anything
against her will. You are affording her a
choice
. If this girl is the one, you will know it by her
choice
. She may surprise you with her readiness for the role. Most women find The Society’s protocols… ‘Liberating’.”

“Yes, father,
most
do. But to bring Alicia to her point of liberation, you have made it exceedingly clear I may not divulge the
true
nature of our trip until it is too late for her to protest discreetly. I am not even certain of this lifestyle for myself, father, let alone for a woman I once loved.”

“
Once
loved? Rory, you do not have the luxury of
once
loving anyone! Love is a fruitless sentimentality at moments such as this. The clock is ticking and time is against us. You must fulfill your obligations to this family and you must do so within the next 48 hours. The Society elders are growing impatient and our leadership seat is at risk. I have indulged your procrastination too long!

“Remember, son… Your mother and I barely knew each other when I first took her to the estate. Although it was uncomfortable for her at first, she ultimately settled into to her role and we have never looked back. Now that you know of your mother’s true responsibilities, do you think she ever seemed unhappy? Did your mother ever seem the least bit dissatisfied with her obligations?”

“No, father, but…”

“NO, Rory! No more delays! This hesitation is a weakness Mistress Adele and I will no longer tolerate! You do not have the luxury of wallowing in uncertainties about ‘love,’ or about whether Alicia is ‘ready.’ You will only know if Alicia is the one we seek by leading her through the protocols. Gauge her readiness
after
the visit, not before.”

“Father, what if she learns about the requirements of her office…”

Rory hesitated, agonizing as he put himself in the place of his joyously unsuspecting girlfriend. Shackled. Disciplined. Terrorized.

“…What if she wants nothing to do with me after this visit?”

“Then have the checkbook ready, Rory. Be prepared to pay her handsomely for her trouble. If she does not consent to the union, have Jarrod take her home and move quickly to the next one in line. I know Alicia’s father well. He is discrete and will respect a healthy stipend.”

Rory dropped the receiver to his lap, touching his free hand to his forehead as he sickened over his father’s callous indifference. H. Stanton’s emotionless ease with ‘writing checks” scalded the son’s idealistic heart.

“Rory? Are you still there? RORY!”

The sole heir to the St. Cloud fortune returned the receiver to his ear. “Yes, father. I am still here.”

“Well? What do you have to say? Do you have a checkbook with you or not? Do you have another woman in mind should this one fail?”

“Father… This is
wrong
! The woman I choose to marry must
love
me! I must
love
her
.
You
may find nothing wrong with the notion of ‘writing a check’ to resolve Alicia’s concerns or buy her loyalty, but I find it reprehensible!”

The patriarch of the St. Cloud family bellowed. “Rory! You are no longer a boy! Time is slipping away from all of us! This is
your
responsibility! This is
your
obligation to our family! To The Society! You
will
take Alicia to the estate, you
will
offer her discipline, and you
will
present her with her calling! Your 25
th
birthday is days away. Be a
man
, Rory! Sometimes
real
men must do distasteful things in order to serve a greater good.”

“’Be a
real
man?’ Greater ‘
good
?’ My God, father! Are you listening to yourself? You have the audacity to call this demented ritual ‘
good
’?”

“You know what I meant, Rory! For better or worse, our family’s legacy and our leadership of The Society is on
your
shoulders now! I will not see that status revoked! If your brother were still alive…”

Rory exploded. “DO NOT bring Thad into this, father! If Thad were still alive, he would have the same concerns!
Thad
did not curse me with this burden, father.
You
did!”

“Thad understood the importance of this calling to our family’s wellbeing, Rory! He would not be wallowing in…”

Rory let the receiver slip from his ear, holding it to his cheek as H. Stanton monologued. He stared out the window, taking transient solace in the purple wildflowers passing alongside the parkway. In moments he would arrive at the home of Alicia Drummond, oldest daughter of Jackson Drummond, founder and CEO of Drummond Industries, munitions and armaments-maker extraordinaire to a pantheon of despotic stars. It would soon be too late to evade his mission.

A swift, serendipitous union between the two college sweethearts was most agreeable to the elders of The Society, salivating over another wealthy family’s multi-million-dollar initiation fee. The union was agreeable to Rory’s parents, who sought continued domination of The Society’s leadership by the House of St. Cloud. The union was agreeable to Alicia’s father and mother who, having sampled The Society’s clandestine, exotic playgrounds, yearned for mid-life entry onto its selective membership rolls. The union was agreeable most of all to Allie, who deeply loved her long-time boyfriend and dreamed of a fairytale life at the castle called “Staffordshire.”

The union was agreeable to everyone except Rory.

A foretaste of fresh vomit hurtled into his mouth as Rory considered his orders. He swallowed away its eruption. In his cheek, he felt the barking voice of his father on the radiophone ear piece.

“Rory! Are you there?”

Rory permitted himself a moment of reminiscence, of happier, earlier days with Allie. They met in college, on a playing field, as “Rugby Rory” raced to retrieve a wayward pass and trampled “Cheerleader Allie.” They instantly fell in love and soon became inseparable. She adored his charm, rugged appearance, and old world elegance. He adored her kind, innocent spirit and her athletic, blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty. Their marriage seemed a foregone conclusion.

Now, though…

“RORY! ANSWER ME! Are you still there?”

“YES
,
father! I am still here!”

“Rory, I do not understand your hesitation! We are not asking you to rape this girl! All you must do is…”

“
I
know
what I must do, father!
You have made my responsibility
abundantly
clear! All I must do is ‘bed the girl’ and ‘bind the girl’.” Rory gagged.

“Then what is your problem? Just do it and get it over with! Other men of your wealth and physical appearance have had
dozens
of women by your age. What is your reluctance with
this
one? You have the goddamned equipment, man! USE IT!”

H. Stanton St. Cloud’s credo came home to roost.
“Use or be used.”
To H. Stanton, Alicia Drummond represented a capital asset, a means to an end. No more, no less. His obsession with securing and expanding the St. Cloud family fortune and global influence trumped all concern for the emotional health of a disposable young woman.

“
Father!
What if I use Alicia to meet the requirements of our sick, ‘St. Cloud legacy’ and I
hurt
her?”

“Our legacy, Rory, is not ‘sick’! It is our
choice
, damn it! I am not ashamed of our lifestyle and neither should you be! Now, can I count on you to fulfill your obligation to this family or should I arrange a visit with the attorney to draw up the dissolution documents?”

“Please, father… Please give me a moment. Just give me a moment to think. We are almost there. I just need a little time…”

“Take your ‘moment,’ Rory, but do not take long! You have already tested my patience!”

Rory dropped the phone back to his lap and looked out the window, wondering what life would have been like if he had been born into any other family. Was inheriting a billion dollar fortune worth testing the sanity of a young woman he once believed he would marry?

Alicia did not feel like the right fit for Staffordshire’s new matriarch. She lacked fire, fierceness of spirit. She had a sweet, giving personality not nearly up to managing Staffordshire’s gluttonous appetite for profligate pleasures.

Jarrod opened the window between the seats. “We are almost there, Master.”

The heir looked up into the rear view mirror and caught the chauffeur’s guarded eyes. He sensed Jarrod’s disgust with the Master-elect’s weakness and hesitation. Jarrod knew every family secret, ferrying St. Clouds here and there between duties and dalliances for nearly 20 years. Rory suspected what Jarrod thought, though the servant would never express his opinion unless explicitly asked.

“Did you hear the essence of our conversation, Jarrod?”

“Yes, sir. Regrettably, the partition is not soundproof.”

“You would do this without a moment’s hesitation, wouldn’t you?”

“May I speak plainly, sir?”

“I count on it, Jarrod.”

In the front seat, the chauffeur pressed a mute button on the radiophone console. His eyes danced nervously. An overstep was imminent.

“Sir, you are hours away from inheriting unimaginable wealth. All you must do to seal your inheritance is this one thing.”

“…And then other ‘one things,’ Jarrod! My God, man! You of all people should know it does not end here! You’ve seen it for yourself!
You’re one of them
, for Christ’s sake!”

“Yes, sir, that is true. And I am not proud of my role in this matter. But you are thinking too far ahead. Focus on just this moment. Do not hesitate.”

The chauffeur’s eyes glanced off to the highway and then rejoined the tormented young man in the rear mirror. “Master Rory, in my 20 years with your family I have indeed witnessed moments of both tenderness and terror. I have always held my tongue.” A faint smile met the traveler’s eyes. “You are not the ‘terror’ type, sir, of that I am certain. You are a different man than your father. I beg your forgiveness for speaking so candidly, sir, but you are not a callous or harsh man.
You
are not
him
.”

The chauffeur’s acknowledgment of the son’s meager moral compass gave Rory a small measure of comfort. “Thank you for saying that Jarrod. I will never repeat it. But Jarrod… This girl… Miss Drummond… She is so… So vulnerable…”