The Glass House

by Bella Bryce

  "I can start the car with my index finger but I have to walk back to the valet stand to get the rest of my god-forsaken keys for the rest of my god-forsaken life," Damian mumbled under his breath, as he cut the engine and got out of the car.

  He took a slow stroll out of the car park, past the restaurants full of people in full view of the large windows as they ate and drank, laughed and touched each other's arms affectionately. He could have stayed to talk with his friends, but his mind wasn't there. He didn't know where it was.

  "Fowler," he said, producing a ticket from his blazer to the man at the valet stand.

  "Won't be a moment, Sir."

  "I'll take the keys and walk," he replied.

  The attendant looked up from the leather box that held various sets of car keys.

  "It's not you; it's me. Nothing personal."

  The attendant handed Damian his car keys slowly.

  "Sorry. Too much dessert wine," he said, then turned and walked away.

  He hadn't made it very far when he heard his name. He turned, not entirely surprised, knowing he could hear his name anywhere in London. He had a widespread social circle, so did his parents, his brother, and a lot of old boarding school friends. Although, he wasn't entirely certain the young woman approaching him could be counted as a friend.

  "I thought you were on the cruise? When did you get back?" Her voice shrieked, very nearly too excitedly as she lunged forward and hugged him.

  Damian politely kissed her twice and stepped back. "I was. I came back at Christmas. Then I went to Berlin, and now I'm staying at Barton-Court."

  Jade raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. The wind was picking up as they stood near the Thames.

  "Where is your coat? You'll freeze." Damian looked her up at down.

  "I'm all right. I'm only round the corner. Meeting some girls for dinner."

  "A late one," he said, glancing at his watch.

  "I had exams, remember? I'm celebrating."

  "Before you get the results?"

  "Of course," Jade smirked.

  "Well, I won't keep you," Damian replied.

  "You want to join us?" she indicated with her head.

  Damian knew Jade was a gold digger. No thanks, he didn't want to join her. Beyond that, she was the one who'd told Brayden during dinner at The Ivy that his choice to adopt and raise Alice was strange. Damian was Alice's uncle, and Brayden was his friend and his elder brother's best friend.

  "I've just left dinner, thanks. But maybe we'll catch up sometime."

  "Catchup sometime?"

  Damian looked confused.

  "Bloody catchup, sometime. Honestly," Jade remarked.

  "What?"

  "Don't be bloody stupid. What's with you posh boys? Such a tease."

  Damian shook his head. "No, don't go saying that whole posh boys rubbish. What does old money and private education have anything to do with anything?" He was rather annoyed.

  "You know what I'm talking about, although perhaps whatever you've had to drink doesn't."

  "Doubt it," he said, laughing a bit defensively.

  "You texted me for nearly the entire time you were on the Queen Mary. Then, you come back and not even a word. And here you are. I must have just been the girl of the moment."

  "It's not like that," Damian shook his head.

  She wasn't amused and gave him the notorious female look of displeasure.

  "I apologise if you thought my texts talking about my trip were going to lead somewhere. We're old friends, I was asking after you. That's all. I didn't mean to make you think anything of it."

  "Well you did."

  Damian exhaled as a man in distressed jeans, t-shirt and mock tweed blazer came up behind her.

  "Who's this, then?" he asked, nodding toward Damian.

  Damian didn't have the energy to shake his head. "Nobody. Absolutely nobody," he replied, and walked away. Damian wished he hadn't forgotten his bloody keys, or better yet, he'd have just left them on the valet stand and spent £500 replacing them. It would have been entirely worth it to avoid having that conversation with Jade. He could have even stayed for another drink with his friends and that would have put off him meeting her by the right amount of time. Although, it was dodgy enough that he was driving home after one glass of wine and two brandies. He didn't like being driven around in his brother's limo, and he grew up riding around in one so the novelty had worn off for him a long time ago.

  When Damian returned to Barton-Court, he left his car in the allocated space in the detached garage off to the side of the estate and paused halfway across the gravel drive. The front door opened and he carried on walking.

  "Mr. Fowler," Sullivan said, as he stood in the doorway.

  Damian managed a small smile and handed his keys to the butler.

  "Don't let me have those back until tomorrow."

  "Sir," he replied, watching Damian walk straight across the foyer and through the double doors beneath the staircase. Otherwise, he knew he would find himself driving to Heathrow to get on the first flight out of the country.

  Bennett sat in a wingchair near one of the fireplaces in the Great Room, sipping his own brandy. His silhouette was tall and confident, not much different from his brother's flesh.

  "Everything all right?" Bennett asked, when he saw Damian approaching.

  Damian nodded, removed his hands from his pockets and sat on an adjacent Chesterfield sofa. He rubbed his hands together slowly. Bennett watched him.

  "Did you drive home?"

  Damian nodded, moving his hands to the bridge of his nose.

  Bennett could tell his brother was accustomed to driving home slightly buzzed – something he was adamantly against.

  "Next time ring me, I'll send the car. "Understood?"

  Damian looked up at his brother and nodded.

  "I mean it," Bennett told him.

  "Yes, Sir," Damian replied, with a respectful reluctance. He stood up and left the Great Room without another word.

  Bennett hadn't heard his brother call him 'Sir' since they were at school, and only because it was required when Bennett was Head Boy. Damian hated responding that way to his brother. It wasn't optional when speaking to their father, but Damian had avoided it in their youth as soon as they were off school grounds.

  After a few moments alone in the Great Room, Bennett went upstairs and knocked on the room his brother occupied. No answer. He turned the knob and push the door open, stepping into the gentlemanly retreat of that particular guest room. Mary had turned down the bed, switched on the bedside lamps, and started a fire – a typical housekeeper's duty.

  Bennett left the door open and walked down the corridor to his study. Damian was standing with one hand in his trouser pocket and the other holding the corner of a gold-framed picture on the mantelpiece. Bennett paused in the doorway.

  "I guess I never took those beltings seriously with regards to asking permission to enter another man's study," Damian remarked. He continued to stare at the professional photograph of Bennett and Elisabeth before him. The picture had been taken in the formal gardens during a snowfall, just a few days after they were engaged. Bennett was sitting on the iron bench at the back of the estate in his everyday formal clothes, topcoat and tartan scarf, with Elisabeth in an equally adorable winter outfit sitting across his lap. Bennett was kissing her forehead with his eyes closed, and Elisabeth was smiling as she looked at the camera. Damian had never seen that photograph, nor could he have dreamed such an image of his elder brother would ever exist. He couldn't take his eyes off them. They looked so happy.

  "It certainly appears that way," Bennett replied, maintaining patience as he watched Damian look at the photo, standing in his study, uninvited.

  "Sorry," he replied, and turned away from the fireplace. "I shouldn't be in here without your permission. It's the brandy."

  Bennett exhaled and looked at the ceiling.

  "I'm waiting for you to tell me off," Damian replied, as he walked across the st
udy toward his brother.

  "You never respond well to that." He folded his arms and stepped inside.

  "The last time I was here, you told me I needed to start acting like a Fowler."

  "Yes," Bennett replied, wondering where on earth Damian was taking their ridiculous conversation. It was common knowledge that he needed to get his life together.

  "Why haven't you said anything about it since?" Damian asked, as he perched on the arm of the expensive Chesterfield.

  "Do not." Bennett closed his eyes for a moment, causing Damian to stand right back up.

  "Sorry, it's the brandy."

  "Brandy, I know." Bennett nodded and uncrossed his arms. "Listen. I understand you're in a bit of a crisis, not knowing where you want to live, what you want to be doing and how you fit into all the change taking place in this family, Brayden and Alice included. However, the rather harsh line I took with you last year before you ran off on the holiday you're still supposed to be on, might I add, was to prevent all this."

  "My crisis?"

  "Yes."

  "I'm not in a crisis," Damian replied innocently. If he hadn't been slightly intoxicated he would have probably responded more defensively.

  Bennett exhaled and indicated with his index finger for his brother to approach as if they were schoolboys again, and as Head Boy, Bennett was signalling for Damian to reach him quickly.

  His brother approached.

  "Perhaps this conversation should be left until the morning. You've obviously had wine with dinner and two brandies to follow."

  "How did you know I had two?"

  "Because you've had more than one."

  Damian nodded and pressed his lips together. His elder brother didn't miss a beat.

  "I'm going to collect Elisabeth very early for breakfast in the morning, so I think we both ought to go to bed now."

  "Your housekeeper pulled down my duvet."

  "Mary has a habit of doing that. It has something to do with her wages being paid," Bennett replied, as he stepped aside.

  "I'm not drunk, Bennett. I'm just pensive."

  "I know you're not drunk. You wouldn't be able to sit down if you came home drunk. Don't worry about it. Go on to bed and I'll see you at breakfast."

  "I don't suppose a nightcap – "

  "Goodnight," he reiterated.

  "Night," Damian replied, and let himself out of his brother's study.

  "Night cap, indeed," Bennett murmured.

  * * * * *

  Elisabeth was pleasantly surprised to see her future brother-in-law in the dining room when she arrived the next morning. Breakfast at Barton-Court was spot on 7:15 am every day, meaning Bennett rode half an hour to Waldorf to collect her, then repeated the journey to return home in time.

  "Good morning," Elisabeth said cheerfully, as she walked down the side of the long, formal dining table and around the back of Bennett's chair at the head to greet him.

  Damian stood up and kissed her twice.

  "Hello there," he said. "Good morning."

  "I knew you were staying here, but I finally believe it now that I've seen you."

  Damian smiled.

  "Darling," Bennett said, as he stood on the opposite side of the table with his hands holding onto the back of the antique chair. "We can chat during breakfast."

  "Sorry," she replied politely, and walked back to her chair. "Thank you," she said, as Bennett pushed her in toward the table.

  Damian reclaimed his seat as Bennett took his between them at the head. Damian avoided staring at Elisabeth. It was difficult, considering she was the sweetest, most docile girl he'd ever met, and she was soon to be his sister-in-law.

  Damian was tired. He hid it well. He also wore the requisite jacket and tie. Growing up, he'd always worn three-piece suits at home, as did his father and brother. Even as he grew older, those rules never relaxed, but Damian managed to find ways to still look smart and somehow ditch the properly straightened tie and exchange a smart blazer for a smart sweater. Meals were different and he would always change to ensure he dressed appropriately to be in the dining room with his parents. At Barton-Court, being that it was Bennett's house and he wanted the same environment, Damian didn't want to be a git about it and ensured to dress appropriately.

  Elisabeth stirred the tea in her dainty china cup with her equally dainty fingers. She wore a mint green A-line dress that flared from the waist and stopped mid-thigh with a delicate sash tied into a bow under the bust, ivory floral patterned tights and matching mint green patent flats. Her brown hair fell between her chin and her shoulders and her brown eyes sparkled when she looked over at Bennett. Damian watched Elisabeth smile when she responded to a question he asked her – their conversation was completely inaudible to him at that moment.

  Bennett still rationed his smiles, but whenever he looked at Elisabeth, it was apparent how he felt about her, even in his normal sternness. The steam from the breakfast as it arrived and was placed in front of them climbed upward, their quiet and polite conversation seemed to unfold in slow motion and Damian felt like a spectator at a film. Elisabeth smiled at Bennett as she brought the teacup to her lips, the beautiful morning sun pouring through the huge windows down onto their formal table and the butler standing attentively nearby. Damian realised he felt more out of place than ever before; right there in the middle of a moment too precious to watch, he did in any case, as though he were intruding. Only for another few seconds though.

  "Excuse me," Damian said, pulling himself straight out of the trance and taking all of the slow motion with it.

  Bennett looked over at his brother as he put his napkin on the table beside the freshly prepared breakfast plate and pushed his chair back. Bennett would have followed him but Damian's manner was the kind of pensive he claimed the night before (of course it wasn't being pensive, it was being buzzed). That, however, seemed to be a true state of pensiveness and Bennett watched him walk beside the long formal dining table and out through the doors. Elisabeth looked over at Bennett.

  "Is Damian all right?" she asked, concerned.

  "Yes," Bennett replied, as he returned to his breakfast.

  Elisabeth looked down the formal room to the double doors. He didn't seem all right.

  That afternoon, Elisabeth lay down in her old bedroom for a rest. She and Bennett had spent most of the day out in the gardens for a long walk and then returned to have tea and chat about wedding plans. Bennett made several lists in his leather-bound notebook, which they would bring to their next appointment with Anabelle. Elisabeth was yawning all morning, and when she put her head down on the arm of the sofa gently, Bennett insisted he escort her upstairs for at least an hour's lie down. Elisabeth only protested slightly, but five hearty smacks to her backside were enough to make her stop. Bennett saw her into bed, closed the bedroom door behind him and turned in the opposite direction toward Damian's room. He stopped in the open doorway to find his brother reading in one of the wingchairs near the fireplace.

  "Everything all right?" Damian glanced at his elder brother. "Sounded like someone was getting sorted out just then," he returned to his book.

  "Elisabeth is exhausted, but quite often she likes to push herself. I put a stop to that," Bennett replied with a brief smile, as though it were an amusing thought, then stepped into the room and approached his brother.

  "Where is she now?" Damian asked, as he continued to read.

  "She's having a bit of a lie down. Close that a moment, won't you," Bennett said, tapping Damian on the shoulder as he passed by and claimed the adjacent wing chair.

  "Is it my turn for a beating?"

  Bennett folded his hands. "Would you like one?"

  Damian grinned. "I have a feeling you're in the mood."

  "Elisabeth was spanked for reasons made very clear to her," he replied, as his eyes met Damian's. "As for you, I'm not your disciplinarian, I am your elder brother."

  "Which means you're more like both rolled into one delightful package."

 
Bennett raised an eyebrow.

  "Sorry," Damian replied, and tapped the book against his thigh lightly a few times.

  "You walked out during breakfast this morning."

  "I know, I'm sorry," Damian rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  "Elisabeth is still learning what a proper, well-run home looks like. It will be hard for her to look up to you when you do things like that. She's never seen Brayden or me walk out, Damian."

  "Well, we all wish we could be you and Brayden," he replied, removing his fingers.

  "I realise you're twenty-six years old and we are brothers, but I'm leaning more and more toward wanting to give you a good beating, you know that," Bennett warned.

  "I don't think that's anything new." Damian glanced at the ceiling momentarily.

  "Let's give it a try, shall we?" Bennett asked. "The last time was when we were at school, but I'm sure it will all become quite familiar again."

  Damian couldn't help but look away.

  "If you were back at Greystone, you know Mother would have had you across the Chesterfield before you could remind her of your age."

  Damian nodded as he looked down.

  "You're not a child, Damian, but in this house, anyone who misbehaves is subject to correction. Anyone."

  "I didn't leave the table to be a complete git, you know. It was because I didn't feel I had a right to intrude on your time together." Damian looked away again. He felt completely humiliated sharing that.

  "You're my brother and living in my house at the moment – you weren't intruding. Of course not."

  "You were looking at her, and she was adorable as she looked back at you, and I felt completely out of place," he said, fidgeting in his chair. "She really loves you. I couldn't watch."

  Bennett certainly hadn't thought that was the reason for Damian's quick exit. "You weren't out of place."

  "I was. I don't belong here. I shouldn't be here," he replied, automatically.