Ned looked on and laughed, taking a swill of his gin. “Like what?”
“I don’t know…but her parents aren’t here. The girl needs to be told…I’ll go find Adelaide.”
“Marjorie, dear. You invited our guests to a night at Versailles.” Ned raised his hands, sweeping them over the scene before us. “You got what you asked for.”
* * *
Ned did not come down to breakfast the following morning, and I did not see him until it was nearly time for lunch. I sat outside on the terrace reading the latest reports on the Post Cereal Company’s figures that Colby had sent over. I had selected that morning as the time to tell my husband the good news about the baby, but when I had come down and seen the absolute havoc of our gardens, my mood had turned sour, and I no longer felt like the time was right.
“Morning,” Ned said when he eventually appeared, planting a kiss on my cheek, reeking of liquor even though he was dressed and freshly shaved. From the way his straw panama hat tipped low over his eyes, I could tell his head felt a bit tender. He did not comment on, or notice, the mess of our backyard.
“Morning,” I said.
“How long you been up?” he asked.
“Hours,” I said. “Shall I ring for your breakfast? Or lunch?”
“No.” He grimaced, shutting his eyes as he sprawled out on a sun-soaked lounger.
Was he really going to go back to sleep, when he had only just awoken? “Ned,” I said, with a noticeable chill in my voice against the backdrop of the warm morning.
“Yes?” He blinked one bloodshot eye partly open, staring at me sideways.
I put my papers down, sitting up. And then leaning toward him, a hand raised, I asked, “Have you noticed the garden?”
He took a moment to respond, glancing for the first time out over the bedraggled grass. Chairs were smashed in the middle of the dance floor. Shattered bottles of costly French Bordeaux stained our goldfish ponds. My nearest rosebush wore a wig of white ringlets. Articles of couture clothing floated atop the swimming pool like rotten algae, remnants of when several of our guests, including Dorothy Metzger, had decided to strip out of their French finery and jump nude into the pool shortly after the fireworks.
“Oh,” was all Ned replied. Then he shrugged. “Albie will have the place put to rights in no time,” he said, naming the head of our grounds crew.
I glowered at this, but Ned didn’t notice, because he’d closed his eyes once more. “Last night…” I tried to collect my thoughts. “Looking around this morning, it feels like a colossal waste.”
“Of what?” he asked.
I considered for a long moment before I answered: “Of my time, my energy, our money. What was it all for?”
“It was all in good fun.”
“Yes, but did you not see the group standing over by the pool, rolling their tobacco in banknotes? Those folks were literally burning their money. It’s absurdity. And I did not like that girl with Adelaide. That Dorothy Metzger.”
Ned chuckled. “I thought she was entertaining.”
“Ned, you cannot be serious. The girl had men picking money out of her bosom with their teeth.”
My husband shrugged, rubbing his fingers over his fresh-shaved cheek. “It’s good for Adelaide to spend time with some people who can kick back and have fun. She’s so damned solemn all the time.”
I was hardly in a mood to concede, particularly on the point that Dorothy Metzger was anything but a vile influence on my daughter. “I just…I found the whole thing to be rather off-putting, especially when—”
But Ned interjected: “Marjorie, dear, you’re sounding like the prig. It was hardly the wildest party we’ve ever witnessed. They were just behaving in character.” Ned offered me a rueful smile. “Versailles was a place of excess, after all. And you invited them to Versailles.”
I bristled at this, but inwardly, I had to concede that he had a point. It had been my own idea; I had selected the theme of Versailles. But, merry hell, look at what had happened to the people there just a few years later.
Call in your level head, Budgie. Papa’s words pulsed through my mind in that moment and I felt a shiver run through me, even though the morning air was warm and bright. I looked around once more, blinking as I surveyed the debauched scene. Papa would have seen this mess and told me that I was absolutely correct to feel disappointed in myself. To feel like a fool for inviting guests to waste my money and carry on like boors.