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But before she could say anything more, the doorbell chimed loudly several times, as if someone were pressing it in a highly agitated manner.
Schuyler looked at her grandfather. "Are you expecting someone?"
"Not at the moment. Anderson is joining me in a week, after he has closed up my homes in Venice." He looked grave. "It appears my return to the city was not as secret as I had hoped."
Hattie moved to answer the door, but Lawrence waved her away. "I'll handle this," he said as he opened the door. Charles Force and several Wardens from The Committee stood on the doorstep, looking grim and determined.
"Ah, Lawrence." Charles Force smiled thinly "You have honored us with your presence once again."
"Charles." Lawrence nodded.
"May we come in?"
"By all means," Lawrence said graciously. "Schuyler, I believe you know everybody. Charles, Priscilla, Forsyth, Edmund, this is my granddaughter, Schuyler."
"Yeah, um. Hi," Schuyler said, wondering why her grandfather was acting as if the Wardens had simply dropped in for a friendly visit.
They ignored Schuyler.
"Lawrence, I'm sorry about this," Priscilla DuPont said in her gentle, mellifluous voice. "I was overruled."
"It's quite all right, my dear. I must say, it delights me to see you so well. It has been a long time since Newport."
"Too long," Priscilla agreed.
"Enough of this," Charles interrupted irritably.
"Lawrence, I do not recall your exile being revoked. You must appear before the Conclave to formally testify. If you will come with us, please." "What's happening?" Schuyler cried, as two Wardens took a hold of Lawrence's arms on either side. "Where are they taking you?"
"Do not fear, granddaughter," Lawrence said. "If I do not have a choice, I shall go willingly. Charles, you will find no contest from me. Schuyler, I should be back soon."
Charles Force snorted. "We shall see about that."
Schuyler watched as they led her grandfather out the door and inside one of the black cars in front of the building. She felt like crying. Just when she thought help had finally arrived, it was taken away as quickly as it had come.
"Has he gone?" Hattie asked, storming in from the kitchen. "Thank the Lord."
"He'll be back," Schuyler said. She walked over to the portrait Lawrence had been studying. It was a painting of a wedding, hidden underneath an acid-free cloth for years, dating from the early eighteenth century. There was Cordelia in her wedding dress, looking comely and prim. The man standing beside her, wearing a crisp morning suit and ascot, had the unmistakable, hawkish features of a young Lawrence Van Alen.
New York Herald
Archives
FEBRUARY 10, 1872
MARRIAGE ANNOUNCEMENT INVITATIONS HAVE BEEN ISSUED for the marriage of Miss Caroline Vanderbilt, daughter of Admiral and Mrs. Vanderbilt, and Alfred, Lord Burlington, on Thursday evening, February 29, at six o'clock, at the home of the bride elect's parents, 800 Fifth Avenue. The Reverend Mr. Cushing of this city will officiate. Miss Vanderbilt will be attended by her younger sister, Miss Ava Vanderbilt, and the Marquis of Essex will act as best man. There will be a reception after the ceremony. The bride's family is prominent in society, and among the eight-hundred invited guests will be the governor of New York and the mayor of this city. Lord Burlington is an exchange broker, doing business in London and New York, and is the eldest son of the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire. The bride and groom will then leave for an extended tour of the Indian subcontinent.
The boy stood precariously on the railing of the balcony off the third-floor library. When the weather was warm, the balcony was nicknamed "Club Duschene" since students routinely took their lunches there, tanning, rolling up jeans into shorts, girls unbuttoning their blouses as low as they dared, and boys going as far as to take off their shirts.
But it was the middle of January, and the windows that led out to the balcony were usually locked. Not today. Today, someone had opened the window, letting an arctic blast inside the library, and that someone was now outside, balancing on a slim, four-inch iron rail.
Jack was on his way back from the music building when he came upon a lively crowd gathered in the cortile, the courtyard behind the main school. He saw Schuyler slip through the side entrance, her face lined with concern as she spoke to her friend Oliver, the Red Blood.
He tore his eyes away from her, wishing he were the one she would turn to for comfort, and looked up to where several people were pointing, and noticed the boy. He was a freshman, a Red Blood, and he stood on the railing with a blank, dazed look on his face.
"Jump!" Soos Kemble screeched, collapsing in giggles. "What does he think he's doing?" another girl asked, horrified and titillated at the same time.
Jack noticed that the crowd was amused by the situation. Half of them were eagerly, if unconsciously, rooting for the boy to fall. Classes would be canceled for the rest of the day for sure.
