Bittersweet Legacy (The Patricians Book 1) Page 3

  Sophia changed the subject. “Are you an artist too?”

  I snorted. “No, that’s definitely not something I inherited. I can’t draw a straight line.”

  “Ah, it’s alright.” She forced a smile, pulling me into a side hug. “We can't have it all, can we?”

  I decided at that moment, I kind of liked the trophy-wife.

  “Anyway,” she turned around toward a quite identical everlasting corridor. She walked a few steps ahead of me pointing at doors left and right – games room… relaxation room… a small library… rooms I was 99.2% sure I will have forgotten before the day was over.

  She stopped in front of a door and pointed at the one just opposite. “This is Archibald’s room. I thought that setting you close to each other would be a good idea and help you bond.” She rubbed her left arm with her right hand. “In retrospect it might not have been the best idea, if you want I can…”

  I rested my hand on her shoulder. “It’s perfect, Sophia, thank you.”

  She gave me such a grateful smile. I doubted she was shown much kindness from the people sharing this home.

  She opened the door of the room and I couldn't help but gasp as I walked in. The room was gigantic! It was probably bigger than the combined living room and kitchen we had in the bungalow.

  “It doesn’t have the nicest view,” she continued following me in the room “but you get the sun most of the day and it was also the biggest room available.” She smiled. “I thought you’d enjoy it.”

  I did a slow 360 to take in the room. There was a king size bed with a million cream and old rose-pink pillows which matched the bedspread. There was the cream wallpaper with thin old rose lines on against the right wall, with a cream desk by the window, with a matching bookshelf on its right and a chest of drawers on its left. On the other side of the bed there was a beautiful cream French-type dressing table with a matching stool and three panel mirrors. Right across from the bed there was a fireplace with a cream mantel and a giant flat screen TV mounted just above it.

  “This is… this is incredible,” I whispered feeling like a princess in one of this Hallmark Christmas movies except for the part of, you know, being sort of kidnapped and blackmailed.

  She let out a breath. “Oh, I’m glad! I picked the furniture for you. I've never had a daughter, but I thought…” she shrugged, but I could see the rawness of her statement. She missed not having a child.

  “You picked very well; this is incredible.” It wasn’t really my type, to be fair it was much too antique-looking for me, but I didn't have it in my heart to be mean to her. She might never be a friend, but she was clearly not a foe either. She’d shown me much more kindness and genuine interest in the 20 minutes since I’d met her than the hours I’d spent with the man I shared genes with.

  Her smile brightened as she closed the door behind her. “I picked the furniture and the TV. I know we have about 15 TVs around the house but sometimes we just need our own space just to cuddle with a comfy blanket and watch our favorite programs. The fireplace is gas, the remote is on your nightstand.”

  I have never had a fireplace before. I could imagine how nice it would be, lying in bed with a good book and a hot chocolate.

  “I picked a few books as well,” she pointed to the bookshelves, “some of my favorites but we can certainly order you others.” She walked on and opened the door to a smaller room full of shelving and other storage space. “This is your walk-in closet; it is quite small and painfully bare, right? But with Anika’s help it will be filled in no time.”

  “Small?” I asked, half-expecting her to be joking. “This closet is bigger than my bedroom was at home.”

  “You didn't have an easy life, did you?”

  “No, but I loved my life.” It was neither cold nor clinical, as this one seemed to be.

  I looked out the window, at the blue fancy car that stopped in front of the porch. The driver and passenger doors opened at the same time and two boys around my age stepped out.

  The driver was quite tall and lean, blond, so blond that, with the sun reflecting on his hair it looked almost white. He turned his head to the side, allowing me to see how chiselled his face was, his well-defined jaw, straight nose. He was wearing a pair of black pants and a black tight shirt which showed his sinewy muscles. His golden looks, dark attire and statuesque features made him absolutely mesmerizing.

  He looked up, as he could feel my gaze on him, and his eyes made me gasp. Even from a distance I could see how blue they were, ice blue, which, along with his golden tanned skin, made him look as if he was just stepping out of some Ralph Lauren commercial.

  As he met my eyes, his look turned from blazé to a glare. I frowned. Why so much animosity? I didn’t even know who he was.

  He kept his eyes locked with mine but said something to the other boy who looked up at me with a matching glare.

  I didn’t need to know him to guess I was now looking at my brother, Archibald Forbes. Archie was the same height as the other boy but wider, broad chest, imposing muscles. Where my hair was a light brown like my mother’s had been his was as dark brown as our father’s, but we shared the same grey eyes, dimpled chin and Grecian nose.

  “Ah, Archie’s home.” Sophia confirmed from close behind me, probably wondering what diverted my attention for so long.

  Archie’s scowl deepened, before he shrugged dismissively and walked into the house without another look.

  The other boy looked at me for a few seconds longer, causing a chill to run down my spine. A chill I was unfamiliar with but was also not negative. He finally let go of my eyes and followed my brother into the house.

  “Is he coming up to meet me?” I asked Sophia, turning around as apprehension built in the pit of my stomach at meeting my brother.

  “Archie?” She gave me a sad smile, her face so soft. She seemed to be genuinely sorry for me. “No honey, I don't think he will.” She sighed, sitting at the foot of my bed, patting the spot beside her, in a silent invitation to join her. “Your brother is... is a lot like his father.” She said this diplomatically but after spending a few hours in the company of my father I clearly doubted it was a compliment.

  “Okay?”

  “It takes him quite a long time to warm to people and until he does, you’re not a priority.”

  “I see...” I nodded, looking down at my hands. I knew what she was not saying, I was not welcome here. “How long did it take him to warm up to you?”

  “I’ll let you know when it happens,” she replied jokingly, but the pain in her eyes was nothing but real.

  “How long have you been married to my father?”

  “Ummm,” she looked away, thinking. “It will be 10 years in March.” She let out a small startled laugh. “Gosh! Time flies! It seems like yesterday I was a 24-year-old walking down the aisle…” She sighed.

  I nodded. He married two years after my mother’s death – it had to be hard on Archie.

  “Archie never really accepted me, no matter how much I tried,” she chuckled, but the faint glister of tears in her eyes showed how much it pained her.

  I sighed, looking at the ceiling. When I saw the barbie doll walking toward me in the hall, I wanted her to be as cold as my father, I wanted to disregard her as I had disregarded him, but she clearly wasn’t the wicked stepmother I expected to find.

  She chose this life though, just like my mother did before her. She knew she was stepping in this gilded cage and she did so gladly whilst I was being forced into it.

  “Well at least now you’ve got me.” I offered. I didn’t know if I could trust her, if she was just playing a role but I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, I wanted to make a friend in this house, or not even a friend, just someone who wasn’t cold and unfeeling like my father and brother obviously were.

  Her smile widened as she rested her hand on top of mine. “I’ve always wanted to have a daughter. Sadly, I’ve not been able to conceive but your father’s been gracious enough not to
hold that against me.”

  “Gracious not to?” I frowned “Why would he? It’s not like you had a choice in the matter! What are you expected to be? A broodmare?” I snorted.

  The look she threw me showed I was not completely off the mark, but before I had a chance to add anything, she stood up briskly.

  “Well Anika, the personal shopper will be here soon,” she announced, clasping her hands together.

  “I don’t need a personal shopper; I just need my suitcase and backpack. Do you know where they are?”

  She shook her head. “No, but your father will never allow you to dress the way you do, Esmeralda.”

  “Please, call me Esme.”

  She sighed, looking heavenward. “I can call you Esme if you wish, well when we’re together at least, but you need to realize that Esme is no more – she can’t be. Your father is neither understanding nor forgiving.” She walked closer to me and softly, almost tenderly, brought a tendril of my long hair behind my ear, in such a motherly gesture. “Choose your battles wisely, little one, and enjoy the best parts of it fully. Take the clothes, the gifts, the money… take everything you can – it’s the least you deserve for all the sacrifices you’ll have to make.”

  I knew it was probably the mantra she repeated to herself for whatever crap my father and brother were putting her through, but what she didn’t understand was that while she’d chosen this life and was resigned to it, I was already thinking about the day I could open the cage and fly away without as much as a look back.

  “I also arranged for the school’s official tailor to come this evening with your uniform. She assured me she’ll have it ready tomorrow afternoon for school. We wouldn’t want you to miss the start on Monday.”

  “Uniform? School?” Of course, I had to go to school! How did I even skip this? Ben! I jolted at the thought. “I need my bag, my phone! Do you know where my father is?”

  She eyed me warily. “Yes, he is in his office, but he hates being interrupted for any reason. I would strongly advise you against going there unless you’re being summoned.”

  I rolled my eyes at the absurdity of it all. “I don’t really care what he wants.”

  “You will,” she replied, the warming clear in her voice.

  I shrugged. “Please Sophia, just show me where his office is, I’ll go door to door if I have to.”

  She sighed with resignation. “I’ll show you, but please don’t be long. Anika will be here any minute.”

  As we walked down the corridor and down the massive wooden staircase, I couldn’t help but look around for a glimpse of Archie. I’d hoped Sophia was wrong, that he would come to me, I was his blood after all. I read somewhere that twins had a special bond – I’d hoped to prove it but so far, I was nothing if not disappointed.

  When we reached the bottom of the stairs, she pointed to the corridor which I remembered she said led to the garden.

  “Third door on your right, I’ll be waiting in the salon for you,” she added pointing to a room closer to the main entrance.

  I nodded and turned to leave when she caught my wrist. “Pick your battles wisely, Esme,” she whispered, glancing in the direction of the office.

  I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, not yet, but the urgency in her whisper made me nod, even if only to placate the woman who seemed to have my best interests at heart. She smiled, as if I just gave her a gift, and let go of my wrist.

  I walked to the office and took a deep breath before knocking, I knew he was my family, and this was technically my home, but I never felt more foreign than I did at this moment.

  “You can do it,” I encouraged myself before knocking briskly.

  “Come in!”

  I opened the door to find my father sitting behind an imposing mahogany desk, on which sat an open folder and a tumbler half-filled with an amber-colored drink.

  “Esmeralda,” he said closing his folder and leaning back in his chair. “Come in.” He gestured to one of the brown leather chairs in front of his desk.

  At least it didn’t seem to bother him that much to have me around. I quickly took in the massive room as I walked forward. The two leather sofas, matching chairs in front of his desk, the long window giving a breath-taking view onto the back garden, the bookshelves taking all the back wall and filled with what seemed to be ancient leather-bound volumes.

  The crystal ashtray, the open cigar box… it really was like in the movies.

  “I’m actually glad you came; I’ve got some documentation you will need to familiarize yourself with as soon as possible. Sophia cannot find her copy of ‘The Guide of a Good Socialite Woman’,” he sighed, as if his wife disappointed him. “I had to order you a copy – it’ll be a couple of days before we get it. This is all a crucial part of your education.” He added removing his glasses, resting his hands on his desk. I could see why my mother and Sophia fell for him. He was a good-looking man, but his aura of power was off the charts, most likely making him irresistible to women looking for a comfortable life.

  “Sure, I’ll study these carefully.” I stated not meaning a word as I looked at the two impressive thick purple folders he just pointed at. Seriously how much did he want me to learn? And how much commitment did I really want to put into it when I intended to leave and never come back the day after graduation.

  “I’d like my belongings please.” I asked as politely as I could.

  “Please whom?”

  I frowned. He couldn’t expect - I mean his eyes, shining with challenge. He wanted to break me, what I wouldn't do to get my phone back. “Please, father.”

  He beamed, but not with fatherly pride – he was just happy he’d won. “No”

  I jerked back in my seat. “Excuse me?”

  “You asked for your belongings, and I said no.”

  “But –” I frowned; he couldn’t do that could he? He had to be joking right?

  He sighed. “Those clothes are atrocious, I can’t have my child wear those rags – I couldn’t even give them to charity stores in this town. They have been discarded.”

  I kept opening and closing my mouth like a fish out of water. It was true that most of my clothes came from thrift stores but there was nothing wrong with that.

  I could hear Sophia’s words in my head ‘pick your battles’. Clothes were only clothes and maybe I could sell them when I went to university, it would be some good money.

  “What about my backpack? I want to call my friends and my fa-… Luke.”

  “This is exactly the problem.” He extended his hand toward me as if it explained everything. “I think it will be easier for you to adapt to your new life if you don’t keep a connection with your old one.”

  “But, but you can’t do that!” I shouted with indignation, jumping from my chair.

  He chuckled as if I was an amusing domesticated animal. “I can assure you, Esmeralda, I can.”

  “But,” I shook my head, it couldn’t be true. It had to be a nightmare. “You can’t keep me as a prisoner, I didn't do anything wrong.”

  “I never said you did, but this –” he pointed to the chair on the floor and to me. “This is not acceptable behaviour in society, Esmeralda. Show me you can act with the decorum that is expected from you and I will reconsider the communication ban.”

  “How long?” I asked, balling my hands into fists so tight I could feel my nails biting painfully into my palms.

  “It will all depend on you. As soon as I believe you understand your role and your place in the world, I will give your computer and phone back.”

  I was about to ask if what was expected from me was to be a broken robotic doll, but I was interrupted by my savior, and who I suspected would become an unlikely ally, my stepmother.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” she apologized opening the door after only one knock, she took the scene, the toppled chair, my tight fists and sent me a quick warning look before looking at my father with her bright proper smile I now understood was no more than a facade. “Anika’s he
re to take the measurements and the sooner she’s done the sooner our Esmeralda will look like the Forbes she is.”

  My father’s face lit up, and I realized she really knew how to talk to him. “Yes,” he said as he put his glasses back on. “Tell her I expect at least a minimal wardrobe by tomorrow.”

  For the next 30 minutes I was measured and assessed and questioned by Anika, the woman who looked so much more like a punk groupie than a personal shopper, but I was sure she was legit. My father wouldn’t hire anyone who wasn’t the best.

  “Do you have any preferences, Esmeralda?” Sophia interrupted as Anika took notes. “Colors? Types of clothes? Fabrics? It needs to please you too, honey.”

  The woman turned toward her in surprise. “I’m the best there is! I know what will optimize her already tremendous beauty.”

  “I know you will. But she is a teenager, Anika, and we know how they need their own marks.” She said that as if it was an inside joke, a way to pacify the woman, and as Anika relaxed, I realized how good Sophia was at navigating this life. Maybe I should take example from her.

  “I like purple and blue the best and please, not anything too revealing.” I was not a fan of being leered at.

  “But you have a shape to kill for!” Anika shot back. “Soft toned curves, full breasts and a small waist. You should accentuate this!”

  I looked at Sophia for help, she had to understand. She gave me a quick wink, a conspiring gesture which warmed my heart. “Maybe we could keep the boys guessing, don’t you think, Anika? Less is more, we know that.”

  Anika rested her forefinger on her lips, detailing me once more. “Umm, yes, I guess I can keep the more revealing outfits for the evening gowns.”

  I threw Sophia a grateful smile which she returned.

  Sophia clapped her hands together. “Perfect, can we expect some items tomorrow?” she asked Anika, a subtle way to let her know she had outstayed her welcome for today.

  Once she was gone Sophia brought me one of her dresses for dinner. “Purple,” she smiled handing me a straight, lilac dress. “It’s your favorite color right? Your father expects a certain style for dinner, and he wants women in a skirt or dresses, always.”