Chapter XXII: Secrets (3)

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The days ticked by in a flurry of preparation until at last the evening of Monique’s lavish birthday party arrived.

Guests decked out in jewelry that sparkled with obscene opulence and designer fashions custom-tailored to their curvaceous forms began boarding the sleek superyacht, the air thick with signature perfumes mingling into an indistinct cloud of luxury.

For Constance, it was an atmosphere of overwhelming decadence and splendor unlike anything she had ever witnessed firsthand, even during her years in service to the Vanderbilts. But the intoxicating excitement of being in such close proximity to her daughter once again overshadowed any trepidation she felt about these rarefied surroundings.

Though she knew any real reunion with Harriet would remain an impossible dream, at least for now, Constance had resolved to content herself with fleeting glimpses from the periphery, greedily drinking in any small details about her first-born that she could catalogue in her heart.

As long as she could lay eyes on Harriet, memorize the cadence of her lilting laugh or the dancing flame of life in her eyes, then the shame and debasement of her circumstances could be endured.

All was proceeding tolerably well…until one of the other young society luminaries let out a dismayed cry, immediately drawing a cluster of attention.

“Monique! Your earring, one of them is missing!” The girl pointed in accusation at Monique’s elegant ear where a solitary diamond and emerald chandelier earring glittered in solitary splendor.

Panic flashed across the birthday girl’s exquisite features as one perfectly manicured hand flew to her tragically bare earlobe. “What? No, that’s impossible!”

Monique instantly retraced her steps back to her cabin, where the servants had already been instructed to initiate a search.

Within minutes, the entire area was being meticulously scoured by the staff as Monique watched on with ill-concealed fury simmering behind her façade of composure.

Just when it seemed all hope was lost, one of the stewards let out a shocked exclamation as something glinted amidst the folds of Constance’s uniform.

Heart plummeting into her stomach, Constance watched in numb disbelief as the man extracted the exquisite missing earring and held it aloft for all to see, including a white-faced Harriet at Monique’s side.

“You…” Monique’s voice was a seething hiss of fury as she advanced on Constance like an avenging angel in a designer gown. “You ungrateful bitch!”

“No…I didn’t…” Constance shook her head vehemently, palms outstretched in desperate appeal as her eyes sought out Harriet’s. Pleading wordlessly for her daughter to see the truth, to remember the bond they shared.

But Harriet’s expression was shuttered, her jaw clenched and eyes glittering with anger and disgust. “You’re really too much,” she spat, her words dripping with revulsion.

Monique’s closest coterie had already rallied around her, bristling with indignant disbelief.

“Do you have any idea how valuable that earring is?” Viola demanded, her perfectly coiffed head shaking in exaggerated disappointment.

“Just one of those stones could feed your entire family for a decade!” Sally added.

The words sliced into Constance with brutal precision. Objectively, of course, she did not doubt their veracity. This was the world she had sacrificed her daughter to, one of such opulent privilege that the accoutrements adorning these elite young women were lightyears beyond her comprehension of wealth.

“I swear on my life…” Constance whispered, hands twisting in anguished supplication. “I don’t know how that got on me…” Her voice cracked with desperate sincerity, with the lacerating pain of having this cruel deception foist upon her in front of her beloved daughter.

“Well, Monique, what are we going to do with the trash?” another perfectly groomed sylph demanded with an arched brow quirked at the hapless older woman. “We simply must make an example of her for this transgression.”

A murmur of malicious agreement rippled through the sycophantic circle as they closed ranks around their ringleader.

“She had the sheer audacity to steal from you! And that was a family heirloom gifted for your birthday!” Viola stated.

Throughout the barrage of condemnation, Harriet remained conspicuously silent, her fists clenched at her sides and carved from marble.

When those blazing emerald eyes lifted to pierce Constance, the utter revulsion blazing there threatened to strip the older woman’s soul asunder.

“Honey…” Constance began, hating how pitiful her voice sounded, thick with unshed tears. “You have to believe me….you believe me, right?”

For an endless, agonizing moment, Harriet stood utterly motionless, unflinching under the desperate entreaty in Constance’s gaze. The silence stretched out, becoming its own entity suffocating them both.

Then, in agonizing slow-motion, Harriet began advancing on Constance with slow, purposeful steps. Constance’s heart surged with a burst of irrational hope – surely her beloved child would see reason, would never allow these vicious lies to turn her against her own mother!

“You believe me, right?” Constance repeated, hardly daring to blink as Harriet drew nearer, nearer, until she could make out the flecks of gold burning in those fathomless green depths.

When Harriet’s answer finally came, it obliterated Constance’s world with three succinct gestures: a sneer curling those plump rose lips, a raised hand connecting with Constance’s cheek in a ringing slap, and three venomous words spitting like acid between clenched teeth – “Believe you? Why?”

The backhanded blow was just as shattering, sending Constance rocking back on her heels, clutching her burning cheek as all the air rushed from her lungs in a pained exhalation. Harriet’s chest was heaving, her entire body vibrating with an intensity of loathing that seemed to strip the very air from Constance’s deprived lungs.

“You…you don’t believe me?” The words emerged barely above a whispered croak. “You think I stole it too?”

Harriet met her devastated stare with pitiless disdain burning in those beloved eyes. “Believe you? Why should I place any trust in a common servant?” Her derisive laughter sliced like shards of broken glass. “What does it even matter if I believe you or not?”

A strangled sob broke free from Constance’s constricted airway as tears scalded her bruised cheeks. “H-Honey…” she croaked, reaching out one trembling hand in a futile gesture of entreaty.

But Harriet had already turned away, her mouth flattened into a grim line as she addressed Monique in a clipped, dispassionate tone. “Tell me why on earth you even hired someone like her in the first place? Don’t your people always thoroughly screen the riffraff before letting them around you?”

For her part, Monique seemed utterly relaxed, even amused as her bold gaze flicked dismissively over Constance’s crumpled form. “Let’s just say I hired the trash because of you, Harriet. An…intuition, if you will.”

The implications of that silky smooth statement hung in the air like a lead weight, the gathered socialites falling eerily silent as the ugly implications sank in.

Constance could only gape at Monique in mute, impotent horror as Harriet stiffened, legions of unspoken emotions flitting across her flawless mask.

“Why,” Harriet exhaled at last in a strained whisper, “would you ever think that?”

Monique’s nonchalant shrug grated like steel wool against Constance’s tattered dignity. “I don’t know, really. At some point I just got this crazy idea in my head that maybe…just maybe…she could be your birth mother.”

The gasps of shock and dismay rippled through the watching crowd like a physical wave crashing over Constance. She stared up at Monique aghast, scarcely able to process the audacious allegation even as Harriet’s mask slipped, her features contorting into an anguished rictus.

“What did you say?” Harriet’s words emerged strangled.

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