by Aya DeAniege
Not that being drunk ever stopped him from being in complete control.
I turned to the door and was startled by the man there.
A little thinner, a little older, but it seemed the man was a mirror image of Nathaniel. Perhaps it was the image of a man as distorted by a broken mirror, some things seemed off, but I couldn't put my finger on what was wrong until years later.
Nathaniel's features were symmetrical, his father's were not. His father had had work done on his face when he was younger, to correct some issue. Nathaniel had not, his beauty was completely natural, hardened by his life.
As if someone from the slums would believe a rich person had a hard life…
When Nathaniel stood, so did I. I curtsied as best I could, knowing that maids and servants did that for rich folk sometimes. After that I kept my mouth shut, Nathaniel hadn't instructed me to smile or look at his father in any way. I kept my eyes on the floor somewhere between the pair of us, not wanting to make eye contact and invite further conversation.
The curtsey reminded me of the discipline, still less than an hour in the past. Everything suddenly hurt again. My muscles burned, and my legs trembled. At that moment I assessed my body silently, wondering how many bruises I would have. Wondering if that trickle down my back was sweat or blood.
Nathaniel hadn't struck anywhere that the dress would not cover because he had known his father would be coming soon and didn't want any bruising to be visible. Afterward he had spoken to me to distract me from the pain enough that I wouldn't show it, or the discipline, on my face as his father walked in.
I still don’t understand how Nathaniel knew that his father would arrive so soon. In the city, certainly. He and Mr. Wrightworth had known the man’s arrival simply by asking Jake when he had to shine the Oxford shoes.
It was, and still is, the weirdest coincidence I have ever heard.
“This is Isabella Martin, I’m training her to be a nanny,” Nathaniel responded, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Once she’s trained, I will take a serious look at all the women who have expressed interest and are still available. Find myself a proper wife, beget myself an heir.”
“You really think an heir will make the contract null and void?” His father asked.
At no time had Nathaniel mentioned that he had signed a contract. No one had mentioned a contract besides mine and the one that Nathaniel had taken out on Mr. Wrightworth. I dimly remembered one of them having said that Mr. Wrightworth’s had been the first contract.
But then Nathaniel had just said his father had offered the first four.
If I wasn’t suspicious before about Nathaniel and Mr. Wrightworth’s relationship, I was then.
“It’s not about the contract, it’s about doing what’s right by my family line,” Nathaniel said.
All the life had gone out of his voice. I realized then that it wasn’t that Nathaniel was cold, it was that he guarded around strangers. He was especially guarded around his family members and their supporters. The only ones he ever let that guard down around was Mr. Wrightworth and myself, but, at the time, I assumed there was only one person on the list of trusted people, and it wasn’t me.
There was only one person who knew all about his past, who knew just what Nathaniel was looking for in servants, entertainment, décor and even a sub.
And it wasn’t me.
I tried to hide my pain as I stared at that spot on the floor. Then was not the time to bring it up and I remember thinking: don’t be lippy, don’t be lippy, don’t be lippy.
“If you leave any semblance of a backbone to her, she will disobey you,” Nathaniel’s father purred out.
“Destroying a person's spirit entirely destroys the person. I believe those are your words."
“There’s a difference between breaking a person and removing their ability to disobey,” was the calm response. “Perhaps if your mother hadn’t insisted on sending you to her parents, I would have succeeded with you. Instead of being saddled with the get of her in-laws. How is he doing, by the way?”
“I wouldn't know; I haven't had contact with him recently."
“How recently?”
“Recently," Nathaniel said, his voice finally taking on an edge. "He's beyond your reach now. You will never touch him again. Isabella, why don't you go to your room while I have a chat with my father?"
“Yes, Mr. Edwards,” I said and curtseyed again.
Even though I didn’t want to leave the room, even though I knew that was the worst thing to do. Nathaniel had told me not to be alone with his father. I was getting the distinct feeling that Nathaniel shouldn’t have been left alone with the man either, not ever.
Where was his mother?
I made it to the door before his father called out, "Wait, best have a witness to this. Wouldn't want someone saying I was underhanded."
“She’s signed a contract with me, she’s no good as a witness to you,” Nathaniel said as I turned back to them.
His father turned and pinned me with glacial eyes. My heart threatened to burst out of my chest at any moment, but I didn't look away. I didn't look to Nathaniel for help because I was certain that he wouldn't be able to help. If I was caught making eye contact, who knew how much more trouble the pair of us would be in?
“You sit over there,” his father spat at me, motioning to where I was to sit.
I moved to the spot and dropped into the seat, trying not to wince.
Nathaniel was very good at what he did. He had struck me in such a way that it didn’t necessarily hurt to move, but it did hurt to sit or stand for any period of time. It would hurt if I went down on my knees or did the face down position Nicole had taught me only hours previous.
But it didn’t hurt to move.
I stared dumbly back at the man, not certain what was expected of me. I suspect I looked much like a slum girl, stupid and brainless at that moment. Without the wits about me to do more than obey any command given.
“You signed a blank contract,” his father said to me. “Why?”
Even though his voice was filled with hatred, I wanted to obey his every command. I wanted to go to this man and beg him to let me serve him, to tell me what it was that he wanted me to do.
Not because he was attractive, which he was. Or that I wanted him to have me, but because I was afraid of disappointing him. I was afraid of what such a disappointment would cost me.
“I don’t understand,” I said finally.
Mr. Wrightworth’s words came back to me, from my time in the medical building. I wasn’t to lie or attempt to cover what I truly meant. If I wasn’t certain, I was to say as much. Be honest as possible, because if Nathaniel could read every hesitance, surely his father could to.
He had to have learned it from some place.
At the idea of that, I tried not to shudder. At that time, I suppose, I may have believed that Nathaniel's father had years to hone the natural skill that Nathaniel seemed to possess. In reality, the older man didn't care, his methods got the job done, that was what mattered.
“Why would you sign a blank contract?” Nathaniel’s father demanded.
“The money, of course," I said. "I knew it was for an indeterminate amount of time. I knew that I wouldn't be raped, tortured, or killed and that I would be removed from the slums and given work that my body could support. I have a bad leg, you see, and—"
“I didn't ask for your life's story," he said as if I had just shot his wife between the eyes and then asked him whatever the matter was with him?
“Surely you reviewed the videos,” Nathaniel said. “So you know.”
“I know your friend, your little buddy, in the Program, arranged it. I know what sort of contracts he arranges."
“He also arranged for the gardener and the cook, would you like to question them as to whether or not I fuck them with lawn tools and garden vegetables?”
I felt my face heat at Nathaniel’s words. While it was the truth with me, I told myself, it couldn’t have b
een the truth with others on the estate. There wouldn’t have been time for him to do anything with anyone else. We had been spending so much time together.
I had to remind myself that as someone from a ‘vanilla' slum—as Mr. Wrightworth had called it—the flushing reaction was completely natural. I was embarrassed by the way the conversation was turning, and neither of them seemed to care in the least.
“Don't be obscene. Their contracts are very clearly written out. At no point is anyone to touch them except in an instance where they need first aid."
“So it’s not just the one contract you’ve gone through, but all of them? Am I not an adult? Do I not run three companies while you ran off to the other side of the world? I pay your damned pension, I even send you more when I can, is that not enough to have some privacy? Have you also got my cameras watched, every moment of every day, like I’m some poor person?”
“He only blathers when he knows I have him in a corner,” his father said stoutly to me.
“Perhaps he only blathers to you because you go too far,” I responded, my voice breaking as I tried to speak.
Nathaniel’s father wasn’t truly a threat to me, but the fact that Nathaniel was threatened by him was enough to turn my stomach. If Nathaniel feared him, I surely would not be treated well by the man. The entire community was respectfully afraid of Nathaniel.
They wouldn’t talk about his father for more than a few moments before changing the subject.
“That's what I'm talking about. You need to beat that out of them before you let them out in public, before they can make an embarrassment of you and my family."
“Why would that be embarrassing?" Nathaniel asked, his eyes flickering to me. "That's not the least of what could come from a poor person's mouth that would insult you, or anyone else for that matter. She stood for me, not against me, not even against you. She simply made a comment, and I agree with her. You go too far. I'll take you to court for this."
“And lose the company?”
Nathaniel shrugged.
“Over a damned woman?”
Again, Nathaniel shrugged.
“And him, as well? Does he agree with this little coup you're pretending to attempt?”
The two of them stared at one another. I couldn't believe the terror that attempted to grip me. I had seen that look before on the faces of sons and fathers. I had seen it on my own brother's face moments before he attacked my father. Fathers and sons fought, that was what they did. But their fights always seemed more violent than any other.
At least at the end of a fight, drunks could stumble home and sleep it off. Friends could make up. A father and son had to rebuild the foundation of their relationship and learn a new way to exist.
“What are you insinuating?” Nathaniel asked finally.
“You signed a blank slate to hide, but you've failed."
Nathaniel snorted. “Where are you going to find the evidence for that? She had the standard IUD placed to prevent any possible outcome. She won't have a child while she's under contract with me, I won't allow it. Tested for sexually transmitted diseases to keep her from passing anything on to my children.”
“I suppose you have an excuse for everything, including the pained look she has right now?”
“I have a bad leg, I told you I have a bad leg, and you interrupted me!" I snapped out.
Then I put a hand over my mouth and turned away. That wasn't supposed to come out of my mouth. I should have kept silent. That was what a good servant would have done.
“Two weeks training," Nathaniel muttered with a sigh. Out the corner of my eye, I saw him shake his head and look up at the ceiling. "Proper training takes time. We've been working mainly on literature. Isabella, tell him about your reading assignments."
I took a moment to compose myself, then turned back and explained. I was certain that I stated I began with the simple books, the children's items, then worked my way up. I talked about Paradise Lost and was surprised when Nathaniel's father responded with several questions as to what I had thought of the book and then began a detailed debate.
He had some strong beliefs about classical literature.
He also wasn't impressed with my grasp of the book. Looking back, I can appreciate his annoyance. It's not the easiest book, but it is an amazing one. My understanding of it was much like a child looking at a painting by one of the classical masters.
“All that proves is that you've begun an education. You also taught your little friend to sing and dance, doesn't make him a rich person, now does it?”
Mr. Wrightworth, they weren't talking about someone else, there was only one man I knew who fit that description. He had received the education that a rich child would have, had been emancipated, but still wasn't a rich person. He was just debt free with a title.
I saw nothing to be ashamed of, for earning an education that so many begged and sold their souls for. All I had to do was sign a contract, not even one that sold my soul just opened me to a possibility that I hadn't known was there before.
Mr. Wrightworth was always very good at his selections for those who would be interested in the lifestyle but didn't know about it yet. Very good.
“I never said that I was trying to put lipstick on a pig and call it a lady.”
Again, that finger lifted and jabbed at me. “As if anyone would believe that is a pig. Look at her features. They're so 1950's Hollywood. Women the world over would kill for those lashes. In a few more years, once the last of the youth melts away, she may even be beautiful, for an afternoon. But a pig? Not even close. She is a broken toy, the type that you so love to play with. That is the term you people use, isn't it? Play?”
“What are you getting at?” Nathaniel demanded.
“You haven't pieced it together yet?” his father asked.
There was trilling, and then the man pulled a cell phone from his inner pocket. He looked at the screen and smirked, tapping something before he slid the phone back into his pocket. There was a moment of silence as he snapped first his sleeves, then his suit jacket.
“Slow as ever, I see,” he said, half his mouth quirking up as his eyes seemed to squint.
Confident in what he knew, Nathaniel's father stared him down. Nathaniel didn't even shift under the gaze. I watched the two of them, wishing I could just throw my hands into the air and walk away. I wish I had, I wish I had given into that temptation and so many others that came over me throughout their conversation.
“I understand what you're saying, just not why you make this assumption,” Nathaniel said.
“I was under the impression that you were seeing Elaina,” his father countered. “That, at least, would be one of your little toys that I could put up with. She's from a fantastic family, a traditional family. Even if she doesn't take after them.”
“They also believe the children should be raised by the grandparents. Besides that fact, Elaina and I do not get along. At all. For more than ten minutes. As you saw. At my birthday. When you put her in my cake. And she decided popping out naked would be a good idea. Which gave Gram-mama a heart attack.”
“Oh, that was a good time.”
“She died.”
“Elaina is perfectly fine.”
“Your mother, she died.”
“Oh, she had lived a long life or something. It was years ago. Get over it.”
“It was two years ago. When you killed my grandmother at my birthday party."
“I didn't do it, she had a weak heart,” the phone went off, causing Nathaniel's father to pull it out.
I didn't know it at the time, but the rhythmic tapping on the screen was the password to unlock it. All I saw was some tapping and then a smirk. The man looked up at Nathaniel while his face was still turned towards the phone. The screen went dark, and he tapped it again, this time, I knew it was the same as the last.
But still didn't know what I was looking at.
Nathaniel sighed. "I do have things I need to do. Like a conference meeting with Jap
an."
No, not the old time country of Japan. There was a company running out of the area that had once been called Japan and Nathaniel did business with them on and off in those early days. They would demand meetings on strange days and strange times. It wasn't unheard of for a rich person to claim to have to call Japan to get out of all sorts of things.
“I'll deal with Japan,” his father responded.
“I think they'd be more comfortable dealing with me, considering they started dealing with me. It's the whole honour thing they have going on."
“I've already contacted them, and the board of directors. As of tomorrow morning at nine am, I am out of retirement. Need to stick close to home to keep an eye on things. Make certain that you follow the terms of your contract.”
“You think that I'm going to risk things when there are only twelve months left?"
“I do, I do believe you would. No one with my name will ever be linked to that lifestyle. You will not tarnish me with your pissing about with some whore of a poor person."
“I am not a whore. I am a nanny."
“You are bought and paid for. That is the definition of a whore."
“No, a whore is one who trades sex for goods or money, neither of which have happened," I snapped back, then folded my arms, annoyed. "Obviously, you need to learn some things still."
“Fine, you weren't bought for sex," his father said quietly. "But you've had sex with him either which way, haven't you? Ah, there's the blush of the slut brought to the public eye."
“I'm not a slut.”
“Isabella, don't,” Nathaniel said, sounding hollow.
“Why does he get to call me a slut? You have sex with one person in five years, and suddenly you're a slut? Did I miss the part where you're both screwing more people in a month than I have in my entire life?"
Nathaniel's lips twitched upwards. His right hand balled into a loose fist. As I watched, his eyes flowed over me, seeming to strip me to my very core. There was the man in control once more.
