RUBY
The next morning, I am on the brink of going crazy because I have no idea what to wear to go to Beaufort. I don't know if there's a dress code, and if there is, how fancy I should dress. Besides, I wonder if James will wear a suit. We've never seen each other outside of school, which means we only know each other in our uniforms.
In the end, I settle for a black skirt, knee-high socks, and an ochre-colored knitted sweater with a white crochet collar and a black bow. I also wear the black Oxford shoes I bought a couple of months ago at Gormsey's second-hand store.
When it comes to fashion, I don't take as many risks as Ember. I prefer to buy clothes that make me feel secure and that I know I can wear for a long time. But despite everything, I like to dress nicely and take my time to look good; it's probably also due to my weakness for order.
Once I'm dressed, I cautiously make my way to my sister's room. She's already awake and sitting at her small desk by the window when I poke my head in the door.
"What is it?" she asks without turning.
"What do you think of this outfit?"
She swivels her chair towards me, and I fully open the door so she can see me.
"Very nice," she confirms after examining me from head to toe.
"Really?" I ask, twirling around.
When I look at Ember, she squints her eyes.
"So it's not a date, huh?" she says with a teasing tone.
I roll my eyes.
"Ember, I can't stand that guy."
"Clearly," she replies, getting up.
She goes to her closet, a small recess in the wall, and opens the door. Then she leans forward, almost disappearing inside, and starts rummaging for something. I approach from behind and look over her shoulder. After about half a minute, she emerges and hands me a burgundy-colored handbag.
"Oh my god, that's my bag!"
"Don't act indignant. You always go around with that backpack." She points to my outfit. "This bag goes really well with that."
"I should actually charge you interest for having it for so long."
I dust off the thin layer of dust that has formed on the faux leather. I bought this accessory at the town's second-hand store. I proudly flaunted it for two weeks until our neighbor, Mrs. Felton, spotted me at my mom's bakery and loudly boasted that the bag had been hers fifty years ago. Then I eagerly lent it to Ember, and at first, I didn't want her to return it to me. Now that I hold it in my hand, I'm glad to have it back.
"I'm not going to pay interest for something you didn't even know was in my possession," Ember retorts.
The doorbell freezes me. I glance at the clock. Quarter to ten. "He's early," I lament, and rush to my room to quickly switch my phone and wallet from one bag to the other.
"Ruby!" my mother's voice echoes.
As I descend the stairs, I force myself to stay calm. There's no reason to be nervous. It's just a school trip. Lin and I have done similar things together hundreds of times, and it won't be different with James.
I take a deep breath and descend the last steps. Mom has already opened the front door, and as I reach the hallway, she is speaking to a man. I stand there with my mouth open.
First: James wasn't lying. He does have a driver. And, in addition, in uniform, cap, and all the paraphernalia. Second: the driver looks like Antonio Banderas. He has tanned skin, dark brown eyes, and a very expressive, almost sensual mouth. He must be in his forties and is extremely attractive. Judging from the blush on my mother's cheeks, it's clear she thinks exactly the same as I do.
"Good morning, miss," the Zorro-driver says, tipping his cap to greet me.
"Good morning..."
"Percy..." Mom gives me a nudge while looking radiant.
"Percy," I conclude with a smile, and grab my parka from the closet. "Alright, mom. See you later."
"Have fun, darling. And take some pictures for us."
My mother kisses me on the cheek, and I go out to meet Percy.
A second later, he magically extends a huge black umbrella over my head.
"Thank you," I say.
"It's a pleasure, miss. The car is right in front." I follow his hand's movement and almost stand still from the impact. In the street, in front of our house, a Rolls-Royce awaits. Shiny black and of enormous size, it looks like a foreign body among the other cars parked along the street, even to me, who is already used to seeing limousines and expensive vehicles.
Percy opens one of the back doors and holds the umbrella to shield me from the rain as I get in. I thank him again, and he responds by nodding his head and carefully closing the door behind me. Not even half a minute has passed, and the car is already in motion.
Nervously, I smooth my skirt and check that everything is in place after having sat down.
Next, I look at James.
He is sitting in the side seat with an inscrutable expression on his face. It's as if he himself can't figure out what to think about the fact that I've just gotten into his car.
He's wearing a fine dark gray suit, a white shirt, and a dark silk tie with a pin. In one hand, he holds a glass, which I sincerely hope is filled with apple juice, and I notice a sign on his left hand that I've never seen before. It has a crest engraved on it, probably his family's.
The more I look at him, the more inappropriate I feel with my mix of vintage clothes. Unlike me, everything about James exudes wealth, from head to toe, including his shiny black leather shoes. I try not to be impressed by it all because, after all, I knew what I was getting into.
It's when I look at him more closely that I realize how tired he looks. His turquoise blue eyes are red, and dark shadows appear underneath.
"Good morning," he says hoarsely.
Either he's just woken up, or has had a night out and hasn't slept.
"Good morning," I reply. "Thank you for coming to pick me up."
As he doesn't say anything and instead scrutinizes me just as I did with him earlier, I take a look at the limousine. The seats are leather; in front of James, there's a bar with glasses and a compartment that I assume is a kind of refrigerator. Between our space and the driver's area, there's a dark partition.
When the silence threatens to become uncomfortable, I nod towards Percy and say, "Your driver could be a Hollywood star. I've never seen a forty-something so attractive."
"You flatter me, miss. I'm fifty-two years old," Percy's voice echoes through a speaker placed in the ceiling.
I look at James, astonished. A wide smile spreads across his face. I feel an incredible warmth in my cheeks.
"When you say such things, you better turn off the intercom, Ruby Bell," James remarks, pointing up. I follow his gaze and see a little light with a red glow.
"Oh."
"I'll handle it, sir," Percy says, and a second later, the light goes off.
I bury my face in my and shake my head.
"In the movies, the partition is raised. How was I supposed to know that you also have to press a button?"
"Don't worry. I rarely give Percy compliments like that. I'm sure he appreciates it."
I shake my head.
"I think I might have to get off."
"Too late. For the next two hours, you're stuck here with me." I hear a slight jingle. "Here, for you."
I slowly move my hands away from my face. James hands me a small blue cup.
"Don't tell me you've actually brought me ice cream," I say incredulously.
"We had some left at home," he replies matter-of-factly. "Here, take it, or I'll eat it myself."
Wordlessly, I take the tub from him. James leans back towards the fridge and shortly afterward holds a second cup of Ben & Jerry's in his hand. I watch with interest as he peels back the plastic film and removes the lid. Seeing him in that suit with ice cream in his hands seems so unreal that for a while, I wonder if I'm really awake or still asleep.
The ice cream condenses in my hand, and a cold drop falls on my skirt. I look around for a napkin.
"Up front, to the right," James says, pointing to the bar.
I stretch and take a cream-colored napkin from the stack and unfold it over my skirt. Then I lift the lid of the tub and taste the first spoonful. I close my eyes contentedly.
"Mmm. Cookie Dough."
"I had to guess what your favorite flavor was," James says. "Did I get it right?"
"Yes. Cookie Dough, of course," I reply assuredly, but a second later I stop. "Although... the new salted caramel flavor is also very good. Have you tried it?"
James shakes his head. For a moment, we lapse into silence. Then he says, "This is the best breakfast to cure a hangover that I've had in a long time."
So there was a celebration yesterday.
"Was it a long night?" I instantly regret asking; seeing his smile morph into a smirk.
"You could say that."
"So that part of the rumors about the abominable James Beaufort is true."
"Rumors about 'the abominable James Beaufort'?" he asks, amused.
I raise an eyebrow.
"Oh, come on."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Like- you're saying you don't know that there are tons of rumors about you and your group?."
"For example?"
"That you eat caviar in the mornings, that you bathe in champagne, that you destroyed a waterbed having sex... and so on."
He stops with the spoon halfway to his lips. A second passes, then another. At last, he puts it in his mouth and leisurely eats the ice cream while pretending to be deep in thought. It's as if he's slowly waking up. The murky veil has disappeared from his eyes.
"Alright, let's put an end to these rumors," he starts. "I don't like caviar at all. The idea of eating fish eggs is simply disgusting to me. When I have breakfast, I have a smoothie, usually with a poached egg or muesli."
"In the smoothie?" I make a face of disgust.
"Not in the smoothie. In addition to the smoothie."
"Ah, I see."
He ponders for a moment.
"The champagne thing isn't entirely true. Well, at least not entirely. Once, a very expensive bottle of champagne from Wren's parents fell into the pool, and then I bathed in it. But it wasn't intentional."
"Wren's parents surely adore you."
"If you only knew..." He smiles contentedly and digs his spoon back into the ice cream.
"And... what about the waterbed part?" I ask tentatively.
James pauses and looks at me with sparkling eyes.
"That interests you, doesn't it?"
"If I'm honest, yes," I admit without looking away. "I mean, waterbeds... shouldn't be so easy to break, right? I've heard they are very stable."
"It wasn't a waterbed, just a regular one."
I swallow. There's something in James's eyes that I've never seen before. Something dark, heavy, that makes my stomach flutter.
"How boring," I say hoarsely, but my voice reveals that I'm lying. I don't want to imagine James having sex. I really don't.
Unfortunately, at that moment, I wonder what he did to break the bed. And what he looked like while doing it. I could already glimpse something, and I know he has an amazing body. And I've seen enough of how agile he is in sports. He surely knows what he's doing.
At that moment, I'm grateful to have the ice cream in my hand. What I'd most like is to bury my face in it to come back to reality.
"Most of the time, the rumors don't tell or barely tell the truth."
His conspiratorial smile makes me fear that he knows every little detail of what I've just thought. For my part, I decide it's time to shelve the "waterbed" topic.
"Then I'm glad there are no rumors about me."
James puts his ice cream back in the fridge and places the spoon on the bar. Then he leans back on the seat and looks at me thoughtfully.
"After what happened with Lydia, I did some investigating about you."
"I don't know if I want to know what people say about me," I admit in a low voice.
"Most people didn't know you. And when they talked about you, it wasn't in a bad way."
"Really?" I say with a sigh of relief.
James nods.
"This is also why I distrusted you so much. Someone with such a good reputation can only be hiding something."
"I'm not hiding anything," I say with a grimace.
"Of course not," he looks at me amused and leans forward. "Come on, Ruby. Tell me something that none of our classmates know."
I automatically shake my head. No. There's no way I'm going to play that game.
"Well- how about you tell me something about you that nobody else knows first..?"
I expect him to protest, but instead, he seems to ponder over the question.
"If I don't get into Oxford, my father will kill me."
He says it casually, as if he's long since accepted this fact. But his eyes tell me another truth.
"Because he also studied there?" I ask cautiously.
"Yeah- my parents both studied at Oxford. And so did their parents."
The truth is, I've always envied James and his friends because, due to their background, they have the best conditions in advance to be admitted to a prestigious university like Oxford. But now I realize there's a second side. One that is linked to an incredibly immense pressure, which makes me understand a little better James's violent reaction in the university preparation group. My words must have hurt him a lot.
"I've always wanted to go to Oxford. As far back as I can remember," I begin after a while. Suddenly, I feel like it's okay to confide this part of me. After all, he just did, and that has helped me understand him a little better. Since our first meeting, all we've done is argue. It won't hurt anyone to try to let go of at least some of the prejudices we have about each other.
"My parents have always encouraged me, even when it was clear that it would probably only remain a dream. Although my grades were always good, that alone doesn't qualify anyone to get into Oxford. But then they heard about the scholarships awarded to a few students each year to attend Maxton Hall, and they applied for one for me. We didn't think it would work, but I must have done something right in the personal interviews. Since then, the idea doesn't seem so far-fetched, and I've set out to do everything in my power to study at Oxford. I want my parents to be proud of me- and I want to be proud of myself too."
James falls silent for a moment. He looks at me, and there's such intensity in his blue eyes that a shiver runs down my spine.
"How long have you been at the school?"
"Two years."
He grumbles.
"Why are you grumbling?" I ask.
He shrugs indecisively.
"I wonder how it's possible that I hadn't noticed you before."
My heart skips a beat. And at the same time, I congratulate myself inwardly: apparently, my rule about how to go unnoticed works very well.
"I have the gift of moving like a shadow through the corridors and blending into the walls."
The corner of his mouth lifts slightly. "Sounds like you're the ghost of Maxton Hall. Or a chameleon. But let's get back to the subject: it's your turn."
"What?" I look at him perplexed.
"Explain something about you that no one else knows."
"But I just did!"
He shakes his head.
"This doesn't count. You only reacted to something I said."
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly while I think about what to reveal to him. Having his gaze fixed on me doesn't make the task any easier. On the contrary. I resignedly shake my head.
"I have nothing to tell."
"I don't believe you," he leans back again with his arms crossed over his chest. "Come on, it's not possible that all you do is..study?."
"Yes," I think to myself, "yes, it is possible." Fortunately, another idea appears in my mind at the same time.
"I read manga."
James stares at me as if he didn't hear correctly. Then he smiles.
"That's something. Although I wouldn't consider that something to hide, but... okay. What's your favorite manga?"
I blink in surprise. I didn't expect him to ask me that.
"Death Note," I reply after a while.
"Would you recommend it to me?"
I have no idea how we've gone from "James breaking beds while having sex" to "Ruby's favorite manga." Seriously, not the faintest idea. But I nod slowly.
"In my opinion, a person is missing an important part of their general education if they don't know about the Death Note."
James seems impressed.
"Now that would be terrible, wouldn't it?" The corners of my lips rise of their own accord. I can't help but smile. James Beaufort has made me smile.
When I realize, I turn abruptly and start looking out the window, but I'm pretty sure he saw it. There's a clear look of triumph in his eyes.
I wonder why.