The Glass House

by Bella Bryce

  "Good morning, Miss Alice," Wellesley, the loyal and long-serving butler to Waldorf Manor and the late Oliver James, said humbly as he entered the bedroom and took a left to the fireplace and formal sitting area.

  "Morning, Wellesley," Alice chimed, her spirits instantly brightened by the faithful presence of the man who ran Waldorf directly under Brayden.

  Alice was met halfway to the formal seating area in front of the fireplace by Brayden, who held out her dressing gown and gave her an expectant look. He had opinions about Alice getting out of bed and walking about her bedroom in her cotton nightdress. Brayden fully expected his daughter to put her slippers and gold quilted dressing gown with the cord sash tied neatly until she changed into her clothes for the day. He did the very same, although he never spent much time in his pyjamas, dressing gown, and slippers, because he went to bed not long before midnight. He woke and dressed early each morning as well, so there was little time spent out of his three-piece suits, which is exactly how he preferred it.

  "Thank you, Wellesley," Alice said, glancing up at the butler she adored as Brayden finished tying her dressing gown sash about her small waist.

  "Sit down and drink it properly, please," Brayden said, leaving her with another kiss on her forehead before exiting her bedroom in front of Wellesley.

  Once the door was closed, Alice sat back against one of four Louis XV chairs arranged around the crackling fireplace in the ten foot stone inlay, holding a crystal glass full of freshly squeezed orange juice.

  The pace at Waldorf was much slower than anything she'd been accustomed to previously. Alice had never 'sat down' to 'drink orange juice properly' before she became Brayden's daughter. She used to wander out of her bedroom at noon on the weekends in an oversized t-shirt and mismatched spotted socks to drink orange juice directly from the carton in her mother's house. Alice didn't miss that at all. Waldorf was good for her, and she knew it.

  Alice instinctively smoothed down the pleats of her navy blue skirt and straightened the red necktie of the traditional woollen sailor top as she descended one set of the grand, double staircase which led down into the marbled foyer and Waldorf's entrance. Her navy blue tights disappeared beneath the matching skirt, although a pair of grey patent t-strap shoes accentuated her tiny ankles. She also pulled a clump of ringlets over her shoulder, so the long locks gave her face and shoulders a bit of definition.

  She hated having all of her hair curled and kept behind her shoulders. Celia had tried to tightly pull half of Alice's hair into a red bow at the back of her head, but she managed to persuade the middle-aged housekeeper to instead loosely gather one section on either side. Celia had sighed and obliged Alice's request, glancing at the girl in the mirror as she sat at the beautiful cherry-wood dressing table looking innocent. She'd tied two red satin ribbons on either side, which Alice insisted should be somewhat visible when looking at her straight on, 'otherwise my face looks stupid.' Celia had clicked her tongue as she obliged the girl's request.

  Alice turned left once she stepped down from the last stair into the foyer, entered through the double doors to the dining room, and took the long walk along the twenty-person dining table with chairs pushed obediently and to the spatial exactness of military precision. Alice was fully aware that Wellesley measured the distance of everything at Waldorf, especially the dining room place settings, with a ruler. When Alice had first arrived, such things made her giggle or frown, but the idea no longer entertained her since she'd become accustomed to the particularities of Waldorf Manor.

  "Father," Alice said, when she reached Brayden at the head.

  The top half of the table was the only part of the long dining table that was set for the two of them, and meals (amongst everything else) were always formal. Before Alice, Brayden used to sit at the head alone with the formal setting before him and the remaining chairs to remind him that apart from his staff, he was alone. Having only been responsible for Alice for approaching one year, those days felt strangely unreal when at the time it had been terribly lonely; he'd just hidden it quite well.

  Alice planted a kiss on his cheek after greeting him, as she always did at breakfast, then returned a few steps and claimed the grand upholstered and intricately carved dining chair to his left. Wellesley pulled it out and subsequently slid it in to precisely the place Alice liked.

  "Has Uncle Bennett been to collect Elisabeth already?" Alice's posh accent rang sweetly in Brayden's ears as she laid her cloth napkin neatly in her lap. The way she spoke was nearly indistinguishable from Brayden's own upper class accent.

  "He has, darling," Brayden said, turning his iPhone to silent and replacing it in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "They're meeting with the wedding planner this morning."

  Alice played with the end of a few of her ringlets that hung over her delicate shoulders and watched Brayden glance as Wellesley placed a china cup and saucer with coffee in front of him.

  "Thank you, Wellesley."

  "But they haven't had the engagement party, yet," Alice replied.

  "These things take time, darling, as I'm sure you'll learn one day."

  Alice shook her head and half-smiled.

  "I already told you, I'm not getting married."

  "Good. You can stay my darling ten-year-old girl forever then," Brayden replied.

  Alice exhaled an amused breath and didn't quite roll her eyes although the impression was there. She wasn't allowed to roll her eyes, joking manner or not.

  Wellesley served breakfast before taking his place to stand in front of the French buffet, observing and waiting. The opposite side of the dining room behind Alice were ceiling-high windows with thick, beautiful drapes held back by cording, then secured to intricate brass ornaments on the walls.

  Alice and Brayden's mealtime conversations were always intended to be a chance for them to speak as father and daughter, but with Alice always remembering she was not her father's equal. She was his child. When there were guests dining at Waldorf, she was not allowed to speak unless she was spoken to, although sometimes that rule was overlooked when the conversation was highly participatory, and she wanted to contribute. When it was just the two of them, Brayden encouraged his daughter to start and maintain active conversation on all matter of subjects, providing of course that it was appropriate and enriching. Although, it seemed the only enriching conversation for the moment was the most obvious: Bennett and Elisabeth's impending marriage.

  "Is Aunty Evelyn and Uncle Jon hosting the engagement party?" Alice asked, between polite mouthfuls of her favourite breakfast, eggs benedict.

  "Are," Brayden corrected.

  "Are they?" Alice asked.

  "Yes, darling," Brayden replied, dabbing his mouth with his napkin. "Harriet will be coming to fit you for your dress."

  Alice sipped from her teacup and frowned.

  "I thought I was wearing the one I wore for your birthday ball," she said, her heart set on it. She loved that dress.

  Brayden stopped cutting his breakfast and glanced up at his daughter.

  "You can't wear that one, darling, you've worn it already."

  Alice's frown remained. "But you hate waste!"

  Brayden paused the cutting of his breakfast once again and look at Alice.

  "There are some conventions I won't ignore. In our circle, ladies do not wear the same dress to another event or social gathering."

  "May I have the exact same dress but in a different colour, then?" Alice asked, as though she'd just come up with a brilliant idea.

  "No darling, I've already emailed a picture of the design to Harriet. You just need to be in the sitting room on time for your measurements to be checked. The girls will come with most of the dress done already."

  "They could probably make me a dress without even coming, by this point," Alice said, grinning.

  Brayden smiled at his daughter's comfort and positivity toward her bespoke wardrobe and the process it took. His mother, Kathryn James, had been a serious advocate for custom-mad
e and designed clothing. She never wanted to put on clothes that had been cut and tailored to another woman's body.

  "Harriet will be bringing your recital dress with her, as well, when she comes."

  Alice's eyes remained on her plate; she wanted to groan, so it was best if she didn't look up at all.

  "Everyone's so looking forward to hearing you play again," Brayden added, glancing at her.

  He knew his daughter wasn't keen on performing piano recitals in front of their close friends, but he saw it as necessary, especially considering he was also her piano teacher, and took great lengths to help her learn and then master the instrument.

  Brayden's own two-decade-long musical tutelage had been ultimately overseen by his late father, Oliver James, who had been as kind and unconditionally loving as he'd been strict and rigid on matters regarding education, study, morality and discipline. His father had salaried a private piano teacher who taught Brayden until he was twenty-one years old and was fully supportive of the Russian teacher taking a cane to his son when he saw fit. Brayden's approach to Alice's piano study was definitely more gracious, although he punished for silly mistakes, backchat and whenever she needed to refocus. It was otherwise utterly amazing that she had picked up the piano in under a year and played as well as she did.

  Alice had played her first piano recital several months into her new life at Waldorf and then took it upon herself to surprise Brayden with a small performance of sorts on her own.

  Anabelle Greyson, the events coordinator from Tweed Events Co. had been hired in December by his best friend, Bennett Fowler, to host Brayden's twenty-ninth birthday ball. In the organisation of the ball, Anabelle also managed to oversee the rolling of the Steinway grand from the music room into the nearby ballroom without Brayden seeing or knowing anything of it. Having secretly practised and memorised Yiruma's "River Flows in You," Alice then played it (flawlessly) in front of over one hundred guests at the ball. It had been Brayden's pride, and took everything in him not to act emotionally in front of the ballroom full of friends and acquaintances. In his mind, it spoke to the appreciation she had for their lessons and the two-hour daily practise she'd worked up to. But she hated recitals.

  Chapter Two

  Elisabeth couldn't help but smile as she glanced down at her ring. Her small, slim hand rested on top of Bennett's, and the large, yellow, oval diamond seemed to be teasing her with its sparkle while the two rows of brilliant white diamonds bordering it really pushed the point. She sat pleasantly beside Bennett in the back of his limo, as they always did, his left arm securely and very neatly around her. They quietly watched the wintery scene pass out the window when she couldn't resist taking another eyeful of her engagement ring. Elisabeth might have been wearing it since Christmas Day, but she knew she would never lose the thrill of looking at it; Bennett Fowler had undoubtedly chosen a beauty.

  He turned from the window, and in his gentlemanly height of six feet six inches, it was no illusion that Bennett rather towered over his fiancée even when he was sitting down. His posture was always upright and his back straight, the outcome of having grown up in a very formal household, the very same he had recreated for himself and would carry on when Elisabeth joined him at his estate, Barton-Court, after their wedding.

  When Bennett looked down at Elisabeth, she was taunting her ring to sparkle, which took very little effort. She rocked her hand gently, and was pleased when the sunlight caught it and splashed the refracted light around the back of the limo for her to admire. He also took a moment to admire her small, child-like knees in her tights where the lace of her sophisticated-come-adorable ivory and light pink layered baby doll dress hovered half an inch above. The ruffled sleeves of the dress stopped before her wrist with countless pearl buttons on the underside.

  He could see her delicate sleeves because he'd recently bought her the woollen cape she wore that morning, and her arms slipped through the slits in the front. The cape was a very smart black wool with a rounded collar and six brass buttons proudly displayed down the front. She looked younger than her nineteen years, and Bennett was extremely satisfied with that. Being twenty-nine himself, it only heightened his attraction to the first girl he'd kissed, courted and proposed to – all within the last two months. He also had complete control over Elisabeth's clothes, seeing as he paid his mother's designer, Harriet, to create an entire bespoke wardrobe for her.

  Elisabeth knew he was watching and turned her heart-shaped face upward to meet his gaze, finding a very rare, very small smile on his face. Bennett Fowler was a deeply serious and disciplined man, which was one of the things Elisabeth loved about him. He watched her eyes glance at his perfectly knotted tie and travel down to his blazer and waistcoat. Bennett wore a three-piece suit every day; very tailored and streamlined suits so as to enhance his long, lean and imposing frame. His matching navy blue woollen topcoat and tartan scarf made her smile a little wider. His intoxicating, gentlemanly cologne moved with him as he looked back down at her.

  She loved everything about Bennett Fowler including his strict, no-nonsense nature and tone of voice. She especially loved when he warned her to behave precisely how he liked, which was as a well spoken, polite young lady.

  As Elisabeth looked out the window and saw the buildings becoming more and more urban, it drew her to reflect on how much her life had changed in the last few months.

  Elisabeth Warner had met Brayden James first while interviewing for the position he was trying to fill at Waldorf – a young lady to live platonically under his discipline and guidance. However, during Brayden's final interview, Elisabeth left Waldorf in a huff, leaving Alice. Nine months later, Elisabeth received a very unexpected email from Brayden explaining that his best friend, Bennett Fowler, was looking for a similar situation, and she was invited to attend an interview, despite her previous exit. Like Brayden, Bennett Fowler made it very clear that he was looking for a young lady who needed structure and discipline and would benefit from a formal 'upbringing' (from wherever she'd developed from her home life by that point).

  Elisabeth proved to be the right match after several interviews and Bennett proceeded to teach her how to live with domestic staff in a very structured household, dress and behave to particular standards, and receive well-deserved punishment across his knee for stepping out of line. It had been precisely the life Alice came to learn under Brayden James, although within a few weeks, Bennett began to wrestle with serious feelings of affection and attraction toward Elisabeth, unbeknownst to him that she felt the same. She'd come to love and appreciate Bennett's sternness, his abrupt discipline methods and the way he fiercely guarded morality and propriety. In that, Bennett refused to lead Elisabeth on. He meant to keep his word to raise her properly and ignore his feelings – until he couldn't.

  Bennett Fowler eventually found a way to ask Elisabeth if he might court her, and then he gave her his first kiss. That was also when he told Elisabeth that she would be moving nearby to Waldorf Manor, to live with Brayden and Alice whilst they courted. He would not live with a girl he was not married to, fully knowing he was attracted to her. Bennett's plan was to visit or collect her from Waldorf everyday, so they could grow their relationship without too much intimate distraction. It only took until Christmas Day for him to realise there was little point in courting her just for convention. Bennett knew Elisabeth was the girl for whom he'd been waiting all his life, and proposed to her as she sat on the lap of Father Christmas, who turned out to be his brother, Damian Fowler.

  Damian had surprised them all with an early return from his cruise abroad, and even his adopted niece, Alice, hadn't recognised him in the handmade and incredibly realistic costume. That was, until she looked into his eyes and saw the familiar sparkle that always seemed to be there. Alice played along until after the proposal when she demanded to see "Father Christmas's" North Pole residency papers to confirm her suspicions. She was, of course, just trying to wind him up, to which Damian pulled the beard off and declared, 'that wasn't
in the script, Mother.' It was a very happy Christmas morning for them all in any case to have Damian home to celebrate.

  When the limo arrived in London's Sloan Square, Elisabeth glanced up at Bennett as he moved to button his topcoat. She sat up straight and smoothed the cape, then the bottom half of her dress of loose pleats and lady-like ruffles as if doing so might equally smooth her nerves. Elisabeth hadn't grown up with wealth, and even though she became accustomed to the lifestyle rather quickly under Bennett's watchful eye as his charge, then as Brayden James' niece at Waldorf, it was still intimidating for her to be in a circle where everyone was a millionaire and very comfortable with the lifestyle that accompanied such a privilege.

  Bennett stepped out of the limo as the driver waited dutifully beside the door, then turned and waited for Elisabeth to follow, offering his hand to assist her. When Elisabeth stepped out into the chilly London air, she had to squint; the sun was in full show as it proudly displayed itself in the sky and reflected off the nearby buildings and skyscrapers.

  "This way, Darling," he said, in his usual straight tone as he led her by the hand into the stone building before them.

  Elisabeth walked slightly behind him, looking around at the impressive chandelier over their heads in the entrance hall. The black and white tiled marble, white columns, and patterned ceiling gave the impression that the building used to be the home of a wealthy Victorian and not a business, which was precisely the aim of Tweed Events Co.

  "Mr. Fowler," a familiar voice greeted once the French doors were closed behind them.

  "Anabelle, lovely to see you again," Bennett said, with a polite nod and a very small smile.

  Ana stopped in front of the couple and looked right at Elisabeth. "Miss Warner," she said, giving the girl a big smile. "May I take your coats?"

  "Yes, thank you," Bennett replied for both of them.