The Glass House

by Bella Bryce

  Brayden was bent down to her, buttoning her coat as she frowned.

  "Don't sulk, darling, please, it isn't becoming." He kissed her on the forehead. "Uncle Bennett will give your piano lessons; I expect you to behave for him. No messing about anyway, but especially not during your lesson. Do as you are told, and behave exactly as you know I would expect. Do you understand?" he asked, as he straightened the beret on her head.

  "Yes, Father," she replied.

  "Good girl," he said, and then cuddled her for a long time. He planted a kiss on her forehead before watching Bennett take her hand.

  "Have a good weekend, Darling, and I will see you on Monday afternoon."

  "Yes, Sir," she replied, and kissed his cheek.

  Bennett left holding each of their hands, and Brayden watched until the front doors closed. He would need to stop thinking about them once he arrived, so he could concentrate. Distraction wasn't good for business.

  By the time Brayden settled into his first class seat and had his newspaper open, it was nearly five o'clock. He looked at his watch, and wondered how Alice's piano lesson with Bennett had gone. It couldn't have been too bad, or he would have phoned. Maybe. He'd given the impression that he would be reachable if absolutely necessary. Otherwise, he would see them all when he returned.

  * * * * *

  Alice glanced at the grandfather clock in Greystone's dining room; it was nearly five o'clock. She wondered if her father's airplane was in the air, and how long he would be flying. She didn't even know where he was going. She didn't know much of anything.

  "Darling, you haven't eaten your parsnips. Your father told you me you love them," Evelyn said.

  Alice shrugged, and looked down at her plate.

  "Don't shrug." Bennett raised his eyebrows across the table at his niece. He and Elisabeth sat to one side, and Evelyn and Alice sat to the other, with Jonathan at the head of the formal dining table.

  "Alice, I want to see a clear plate," Jon said, looking over at her.

  "Yes, Uncle Jon," she replied shyly. She'd never really been given an order from him before, but it came in the same kind of tone she heard from her father and Bennett, so she knew he wasn't to be questioned.

  After dinner, Jon and Evelyn led the way into their formal music room where their uniformed staff would serve tea.

  "Why don't we hear some of the pieces you're working on?" Evelyn said, as she straightened Alice's hair ribbon.

  Bennett nodded toward the grand piano, which was in full view of a massive bay window with a curved window seat bench.

  Alice wasn't in the mood, and sincerely wished Elisabeth was the one who played piano. She played for nearly an hour, going through every piece she knew by memory, and then, before anyone tried to place sheet music in front of her, she left the bench and retrieved her cup and saucer. Evelyn poured Alice a new one, then looked over at Bennett.

  "We haven't heard you play in such a long time, darling. Why don't you?" Evelyn indicated toward the piano.

  He was inclined to politely decline, but his father's expectant look was enough to make him put his teacup and saucer down. He hadn't played in front of his parents in a long time, which had been deliberate. Whatever he chose, it wouldn't be jazz. Mozart was easy and at the front of his mind, so he started with that.

  "Do you play, Elisabeth?" Jon asked.

  "No, Sir, I don't."

  "Perhaps Bennett will teach you. Alice has only been playing for seven months, isn't that right?"

  "Yes, Sir," she replied.

  "I'm not very good with music. Drawing is my thing."

  "I'm sure you could do both." Jon offered a supportive smile.

  "Yes, Sir," Elisabeth replied. She wasn't about to argue with her future in-laws. If they thought she was capable, it was a compliment she would take. Her concentration floated over to Bennett as she watched him play. His always perfect posture was emphasised as he expertly slid his hands over the keys. He was even more handsome to her in that moment, as he played a beautifully complicated piece. Elisabeth had only heard him play piano one other time, and she decided that she would be requesting he do it a lot more often. He was really good.

  As the evening drew to a close, Bennett kept an eye on the time. Alice would be going to bed at nine o'clock at Barton-Court, so he would need to allow enough time for the drive and her routine. He didn't like to leave Elisabeth, but it was something he was accustomed to. Bennett pulled her aside and gave her a long kiss on the lips.

  "I expect to hear good reports in the morning. If not, I'll be putting you across my knee," he warned, raising his eyebrows at her.

  Elisabeth smiled. "Good."

  He exhaled a bit of an amused breath. "Oh dear. Someone is liking her discipline a little too much."

  "It's no different than you liking to give it to me." She kissed him once more, then lowered herself so she was standing flat again. Elisabeth hated to see Bennett leave, but she also loved knowing that he would wake up and see her first thing in the morning. She gave Alice a cuddle and wished her goodnight, and watched as Willis closed the doors to Greystone. She was counting down the hours until breakfast already.

  Alice wasn't tired. Of course. She told Bennett that when they walked into her bedroom at Barton-Court.

  "You might not be, but it's nine o'clock. Bedtime."

  "But at home I go to bed at half nine," she protested gently.

  "At Uncle Bennett's house, you go to bed when I say."

  "Is Father going to ring?"

  "Not tonight, Darling. Go to sleep, and Mary will help you dress for breakfast in the morning."

  "I'm twelve now, Uncle Bennett. I don't think I need help getting dressed anymore."

  Bennett leant down toward her. "You will need help dressing until you are old enough to choose your own clothes."

  "When will that be?" Alice asked.

  "Hopefully never," Bennett replied, then kissed her forehead. "Sleep well, darling."

  Alice didn't intend to go to sleep; she wasn't tired, and it was far too early. She talked herself out of falling asleep and the next time she opened her eyes, it was morning.

  Mary was a lot like Celia in that she was a nice woman who enjoyed working in a private house, who wore a uniform, was in her forties, unmarried, no children, and knew how to clean pretty much anything. She also didn't bat an eye at helping her employer or their guests or anyone else, get changed. No matter how old they were; it was all part of domestic service.

  "Now then, Miss Alice, I unpacked your case last night, and I see you've got four dresses."

  She wanted to roll her eyes, but Mary was nice. Clearly, she didn't do a lot of caretaking of females being that Bennett was her main concern, until the wedding, anyway. Alice didn't want to spoil her fun. Mary would otherwise be putting away laundry, organising Bennett's cufflinks, ties, belts and shoes, and ensuring the other maids under her were getting their tasks done. They all reported to Sullivan, the butler, so there was quite a line of hierarchy.

  "It's a bit of a blustery day and it's supposed to rain, so I think this will do," Mary said, as she pulled a hunter green pleated box pinafore from the wooden hanger in the cherry wardrobe. She also selected a cream button front blouse with a scalloped collar and small gold buttons on the underside of the cuffs, and a pair of grey tights. Celia had packed one more dress than was needed, 'just in case', and included several options of Peter Pan or equally as sweet button-front tops with sweet collars. Clearly, she wanted to give Mary options for dressing Alice. There were also five pairs of shoes to choose from.

  "There's no changing screen," Alice remarked, as she looked around the guest room.

  "Your uncle will be waiting in the dining room for you, Darling. This house is bit smaller than Waldorf, and it's mostly maids here."

  Alice still didn't like the idea of changing in the middle of her bedroom, not when she'd become accustom to changing behind her Victorian screen in the corner of her luxurious bedroom. Bennett's house was a multi-mil
lion pound property, with very traditional décor and features, it just wasn't Waldorf.

  She wasn't shy about letting Mary help, because she'd gotten used to it after a year. Although, she found Mary's pattern of 'help' a lot more involved that Celia's back at home. Alice would try to lift her hand to do up her button or flatten her collar and Mary would click her tongue and give Alice a raised eyebrow. She just blushed and put her hands at her sides.

  "All right, darling, sit down."

  Alice breathed through her nose as Mary crouched down in her black dress and white pinafore to put on her shoes. Alice watched Mary almost lovingly buckle each shoe and then give them a bit of a shine (although they had been shined by Wellesley before Celia had packed her case). It was strange for Alice to have that kind of female attention; her mother had never done those things.

  After Mary put Alice's hair into two long plaits and secured the ends with hunter green satin ribbons, she descended the staircase with the head housemaid, holding her hand. Alice wanted to slap her forehead. Clearly, Mary had been in service far too long. Twelve-year-olds didn't need to be hand-held on the way to the dining room, not even in a very large house that one could get lost in.

  Bennett certainly wasn't complaining when she walked into the dining room. He knew he could count on Mary to impress upon his niece certain feelings, which reminded her that she might have had a birthday, but she was still a child.

  "Good morning, Uncle Bennett," she said, when Mary walked her all the way down the long formal dining table and stopped beside his chair at the head. Alice kissed his cheek and then stepped back. She had every intention of sitting down, but Mary was still holding her hand. Alice looked at Bennett as she pulled the girl's chair out and then pushed her in. Sullivan was on the other side of the dining room, preparing a tall silver pot of coffee, and one of tea.

  "Thank you, Mary," he said, giving her a small nod.

  Alice stared at her uncle. "I feel so violated," she replied, flatly.

  Bennett raised an eyebrow and put his napkin in his lap. "Be a good girl," he said.

  "Good morning," Elisabeth said, as she walked down the right side of the dining table and let Sullivan pull out her chair.

  "Good morning." Alice smiled. "Did you just arrive?"

  "I arrived while you were getting dressed. Thank you," Elisabeth said to Sullivan.

  "Miss," he acknowledged.

  "Your mother invited us to dinner at Greystone again this evening," Elisabeth said, as she put her napkin in her lap.

  "Mother," Bennett corrected, glancing at his fiancée as Sullivan poured her a cup of tea.

  Elisabeth pressed her lips together and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. It wasn't quite the kind of correcting she wanted to receive in front of Alice.

  "What are we going to do today? Have you heard from Father?" Alice asked. "And may I have coffee?" She frowned, as she watched Sullivan pour Bennett a cup.

  He looked over at Alice. "You have a piano lesson straight after breakfast, no I have not, and absolutely not."

  "My finger hurts, are you sure, and are you sure?"

  Bennett raised an eyebrow. "We can chat after breakfast."

  Alice glanced across the table at Elisabeth, who couldn't help but smile a little as she brought her teacup to her mouth.

  * * * * *

  Brayden couldn't help but feel as though he were cheating on Wellesley, as another butler stood behind him and brushed the back of his tailored blazer. He certainly knew how to remove lint in an efficient manner.

  "Thank you," Brayden replied, as he moved to stand in front of the mirror fully, and checked his suit again. A butler came with every penthouse room in that hotel, although he was already looking forward to going back to his own staff. He hadn't been away from England, or Waldorf, in four years. He'd never been away from Alice.

  A chauffeured car was waiting for Brayden when he walked out of the front doors of the hotel. The doorman must have been baking in his uniform – it was far too warm for anyone to be wearing a suit – but it was non-negotiable. Brayden didn't wear anything else, and it wouldn't have done to show up in summer clothes, no matter the weather.

  Brayden pulled out his iPhone and checked the hotel website to remind himself of where exactly they were going. The chauffeur knew the way, but it was a foreign city to him, and it would do well for a wealthy man to know his whereabouts. Especially seeing as he had a rather important mission to accomplish in very little time. It was always better to speak in person, and even though telephones were a great invention, they weren't always a solution. In fact, most times they were a hindrance. The timing wasn't ideal, but he wanted to see her expression, her reaction, and hopefully, his proposal would be accepted. He could only hope.

  The heat waves were visible as Ana looked out of her window. She desperately needed Vitamin D, which had been the whole point of booking a holiday with guaranteed sun.

  Ana slid her phone out of 'airplane mode', and checked her list of missed calls. She should have known that 'holiday' simply meant answering phone calls and emails at a seaside resort, and nothing more. Hamish had returned from the continent, and managed to pop in her office five minutes before she left on Friday to remind her that several VIP clients had events that couldn't go unattended. Essentially, he was telling her not to get too comfortable in her lounge chair, because he didn't want anything to fall behind. She unbuckled her seatbelt with more exasperation than she should have, considering she had just arrived in Dubai for holiday.

  "I think you dropped this," a voice said, causing her to look up.

  "Oh, thank you," Ana replied, as she smiled. He was handsome. Brown hair, brown eyes. He looked like Brayden.

  He smiled back as he handed Ana the half-empty bottle of water she'd gotten from the trolley. It must have rolled away when she was asleep.

  "Not at all," he replied, and left her with a smile as he walked away.

  Ana couldn't help but roll her eyes. He wasn't an option. He looked too much like the man she was really in love with. It would only end in despair, for both of them.

  The porter collected her in the airport and escorted her to the chauffeured car. Dubai was hot. So hot, in fact, that she regretted wearing a lined dress. She should have worn a cotton one, although cotton wasn't always presentable. She was staying at the Royal Mirage Palace, and even if she wasn't, she had standards. Ana wasn't about to show up to a luxury hotel wearing a cotton dress and flip-flops. It wasn't her anyway even on a day that was blistering. The humidity was tangible, almost like a separate substance that floated in the air. She was only outside for a few moments before she returned to the comfort of air conditioning in the back of the private car. It was a half hour car ride, and when she glanced at the driver, he reminded her of Jude.

  The hotel was beautiful, and the hospitality was unmatched. The staff was genuine and one step ahead of her, giving her a brief and very well appointed tour of her room. They also poured her a welcome drink and then left her to soak it all in.

  She stood on the balcony of her room and looked out at the north bank. In the far distance she could see the Deira Islands, with the help of a pair of complimentary binoculars left nearby. She had no intention of doing any excursions or sightseeing; she lived in London and regardless of distance, most cities were the same. Shopping, eating and walking. She got enough of that at home. She wanted the air, the sun and the water. And one other thing that she was sure she would never have, because she'd gotten defensive at his lack of pursuit, and pushed him away.

  Her phone vibrated and she pulled it out. It was her assistant. "I just arrived, is everything all right?" she asked, walking out onto the picturesque balcony. She didn't dare sit down in one of the several comfortable and meticulously decorated chairs on her balcony because the electric outlets didn't reach that far and she needed her laptop.

  "Yes, I just wanted to tell you to have a nice holiday."

  "That's very sweet. Thank you. Are you working today?"
/>   The phone went quiet.

  "Lucy?"

  She exhaled and the sound of her footsteps could be heard, and then a door clicked. "I'm with Clara Jane right now. Hamish is making me help her with the Fowler wedding."

  Ana pulled the phone away from her ear and walked over to the bed. She put it back up a few moments later. "He did what?"

  "Anabelle, please don't be cross with me. He texted me late Friday night and told me I needed to work today with Clara Jane."

  "I didn't think Mr. Fowler was going to use us after the stunt he pulled last week."

  "Perhaps not, and he hasn't been in touch, but Clara is determined that we look through your emails and notes and try to pitch them what you'd started working on. We're going to ring him on Monday apparently, and try to find out if he'll still use us."

  "He won't," Ana replied, as she lay back on the bed and put one hand to her face. "I know the Fowlers."

  "That's why you should be doing this. I'm sorry, Ana."

  "It's not your fault, darling." She wanted to cry. She'd just arrived on holiday, and her life back home had begun to unravel even further.

  "Are you still my assistant?" she opened her eyes and looked up at the dreamy ivory canopy which tied at each of the four posters.

  "I bloody well hope so."

  Their phone call ended, and Ana moaned as she buried her head in the pillows. Not even room service would change the outcome of how utterly wretched she felt. She wanted to ring Brayden and break down. She wanted him to comfort her. Rather, she wanted him there. To hold her. Why had she told him she didn't want to contract with him? Was she a complete git? She concluded that yes, indeed, she was a complete git. Who did that? Especially when their work situation was becoming more precarious by the hour.

  Enough was enough. She changed into her swimsuit, sprayed on factor 60 sun cream, grabbed her towel and sunglasses, and walked down to the empty pool. Laps would help. They always did.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Bennett recognised the number on his iPhone starting with the 020. London calling. Rather, Tweed was crawling, would have been a more accurate term. They should be crawling, in his opinion; a loyal, generational client, like him. He raised an eyebrow and glanced at Elisabeth, who sat beside Alice on one of the formal sofas as they had tea in the Great Room.