It’s more like a museum than a house, he thought as he stepped out of the car onto the gravel driveway. He was greeted by one of the footmen, Carl.
“Welcome home, sir,” said Carl. “Their lordships are expecting you. They’re in the library.”
Richard nodded. “Tell them I’m going to change out of my travel clothes first. I’ll be down in time for cocktails.”
An hour later, Richard walked down the grand staircase and turned right to enter the library. He had changed out his jeans and sweater into a suit and tie.
“I’m glad to see you’re still dressing for dinner,” his mother commented as she stood up and pressed an air kiss to his cheek. “You look very thin, though. Are you on drugs?”
“It’s good to see you too, Mum. And no, I’m not on drugs. I run a lot in Boston. There are some great trails along the river.”
Lord Dublinshire shook his son’s hand and passed him a glass of whisky. “Here. Catch up. You’re behind.”
Richard glanced over at the empty martini glass beside his mother’s chair. Oh boy, he thought. It’s going to be a long night.
****
Richard’s sister arrived the next day in time for lunch. Sporting brown corduroy pants and a red Fair Isle sweater, Lady Sarah looked every bit the part of country aristocracy.
“Thank God,” Richard said as he kissed her on the cheek. “I was worried you would show up wearing neon spandex with hair that looked like you stuck your finger in an electrical socket.”
Sarah giggled. “I know, right? Fashion now is so horrid.”
The siblings took their seats on opposite sides of the dining room table and were soon joined by their parents. Carl and another footman carried in trays of sandwiches and hot soups.
“Richard,” his mother said, “I don’t want you making any plans for tomorrow night. You’re having dinner with Ivy Sinclair-Jones.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. Her mother and I arranged it. She’s a wonderful match for you. Ivy understands what is required for this life.”
“So does our estate manager,” Richard argued, “but you wouldn’t make me marry him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” his father said. “You will go to the dinner. You have no appropriate reason to not give Ivy a fair chance.”
“What if I were in love with someone else?” Richard asked. “Would that be an appropriate enough reason?” He hadn’t planned to tell his parents about Rebecca this early in his trip, but their pressure and attitudes forced him into it.
“Are you in love with someone else?”
“I am,” Richard nodded. “Her name is Rebecca. She’s beautiful and smart and kind. She’s exactly the kind of woman I need by my side.”
“Who are her parents?” asked Lord Dublinshire.
“You don’t know them. She’s an American.”
His mother sighed. “Oh, Richard.”
“Come on, now,” said Sarah, jumping to her brother’s defense. “Maybe she’ll move to England to be with him.”
“Or maybe I’ll move to America.”
“That is out of the question.” His dad looked Richard in the eye. “One day you will be the Marquess of Dublinshire. With all the privileges, duties, and responsibilities that entails. You must marry someone appropriate, son. Not some American from God knows where with God knows whom as relatives.”
“Darling,” his mom said, “I’m sure she’s a lovely girl, but if she’s a classmate of yours she cannot be the type of woman who would make a good wife and mother. These ‘career women’ don’t want anything to do with family.”
“You don’t know her, Mum. She’s different.”
“She’s beneath you,” his father stated. “She’s disapproved.”
“You haven’t even met her!”
“Do not raise your voice to me in this house. The conversation is over.”
TWENTY-ONE
Richard was still steaming as he walked away from the dining room.
She’s beneath you. She’s disapproved.
He snorted in anger while his father’s words replayed in his mind. “No, she bloody well is not!”
Richard continued his angry march through the picture gallery, down the East Wing corridor, and into the solarium. There he found his wellies, kicked off his loafers, and slipped on the more practical walking boots. It had rained that morning, and no Englishman went walking in the woods without proper footwear – no matter how mad he was.
He heard a clicking sound on the sunroom’s tile floor and turned to see his parents’ two Bernese Mountain Dogs, AJ and Josie, trotting toward him.
“You coming?” he asked, and the dogs responded by running to the far end of the room where the door led to the gardens.
“I don’t blame you,” Richard said. “I’m trying to get away from them too.”
The dogs’ high spirits and squirrel-chasing antics were a welcome distraction from the storm raging inside the future Marquess of Dublinshire. His boots crunched on the gravel path toward the gardens, and every few steps Richard bent down to pick up one of the rocks and hurl it as far as he could.
“If only I could pick up Dad and toss him into the woods,” he muttered.
You must marry someone appropriate. Lord Dublinshire’s words echoed in his son’s mind. Not some American from God knows where with God knows whom as relatives.
“Check that,” Richard told himself. “I’ll throw Dad into a rose bush. That way he’s stuck with thorns and Mum can’t enter the district flower show.”
Richard smiled at the thought. They deserve a little unhappiness after all they’ve rained down on the rest of us.
He realized the dogs had gone quiet.
“AJ! Josie! Come!”
The four-legged pair tore out from under a set of shrubs in the corner of the garden and nearly wiped out as they skidded to a stop in front of him on the gravel.
“Good dogs,” Richard said, petting each one on the head. He opened the gate that led from the manicured garden to the larger wooded grounds, and the furry giants raced through.
“Don’t go too far,” he commanded, knowing that they wouldn’t. Even if they did, everything as far as the eye could see – and beyond – belonged to the Arrington family.
Richard passed through the iron gate, shut it behind him, and set off over the damp grass on his way to his secret spot: an old stone house that had all crumbled except for parts of the outer walls. He and his sister played there as young children and hid there as teenagers whenever they needed an escape from being ‘Lady Sarah’ and ‘Lord Arrington’.
He circled around the spot a few times before finding it, overgrown with brush from years of neglect. “I haven’t been here in forever. I guess Sarah hasn’t either.” Richard cleared the weeds and vines off one wall. The three-foot high stacked stone was all that remained of what was once the game warden’s cottage.
Sitting down, Richard reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a 3x3 inch photo of Rebecca. He had taken it while on a team building scavenger hunt, using the school-issued Polaroid camera.
He ran his thumb over the picture and smiled. The scavenger hunt was at Faneuil Hall in downtown Boston. Richard could see the red brick of the historic building in the background, the same spot where early Americans plotted and schemed to break free from his own country. But Richard’s eyes focused on the photo’s subject, with her black hair glistening in the sun of one of Boston’s infamous Indian Summers. Rebecca was smiling at the camera. Not a posed smile, but a relaxed, candid one. Richard smiled himself when remembering how he held the camera up with his finger on the button and called her name to get Rebecca to look his way.
“What’s that?”
The question broke through Richard’s thoughts, and he jumped up off the wall.
“What the – ”
His sister pushed her way through the brush into the opening, followed closely by AJ and Josie. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Sarah looke
d at the picture in Richard’s hand. “Is that her?”
He nodded and passed her the photo. “Be careful – it’s the only one I’ve got.”
“She’s pretty,” Sarah said. “Very pretty. I can see why you like her.” She handed the picture back to him and sat down on the wall. “Tell me about her.”
TWENTY-TWO
“She’s . . . ” Richard paused and smiled. “Sarah, she’s incredible. She’s as American as apple pie and shotguns. On the first day of classes, she told me ‘this is America, speak English’ and that I needed to drink coffee instead of tea.”
“And you love her for that?”
He laughed. “I do. I mean, obviously, her attitude toward me has changed since then. We do everything together. Classes, studying, dinners, runs by the river. I don’t remember what life was like without her.
“It’s more than that, though,” he continued. “I don’t work without her anymore. She’s become the air I breathe. The water I drink. I need her – I need her in order to survive.”
Sarah snorted in laughter but stopped when she saw her brother wasn’t joking. “You’re serious.”
Richard nodded. “She’s everything to me, Sarah. Without her . . . ” His voice trailed off and he looked down at the dirt beneath his feet.
“You’ll find someone else.”
Richard shook his head. “Not like her. There will never be anyone like her.”
“Does she know how you feel?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s better that way, isn’t it? After what Mum and Dad said?”
Lady Sarah shifted on the wall so she was facing her brother. “Do you truly love her? I mean really, truly?”
Richard sighed. “I do.”
“Then fight for her!”
“It’s not that simple.”
His sister grunted and rolled her eyes. “If you loved her, you’d fight for her. If you won’t fight for her, you don’t deserve her.”
****
Richard sulked his way through a few more days at home before leaving early to return to Boston. He didn’t even stop in to see his friend Geoffrey in London. I don’t want to hear how happy he is with his new girlfriend when I’m not allowed to have the same thing.
Before leaving, on an impulse, Richard went into the back of his closet and pulled out an old shoe box. Underneath some photos was a small, black velvet box. Flipping it open, Richard saw his grandmother’s ring. He shoved the family heirloom down in his duffel bag and left his childhood home without so much as a goodbye.
TWENTY-THREE
At the end of January, Harvard’s campus and all of Boston was swept up in Super Bowl fever. The Patriots were playing in their first ever NFL championship game, and the city could not have been more excited. Having finished a Cinderella season and surviving a wild card spot in the playoffs, New England now had to face Mike Ditka’s Chicago Bears. The Patriots were an underdog, but all of Boston believed.
Rebecca and Richard joined the rest of their classmates in Spangler’s student union to watch the game. Four hours later, they walked back outside into the freezing winter night.
“That was a massacre,” Richard said. “A literal slaughter.”
Rebecca nodded. “I know. Brutal. What was it? Seven sacks allowed and only seven rushing yards gained? Woof. The city is going to be in mourning for a month.”
****
The next afternoon, during her usual route through downtown Boston, Rebecca’s prediction was confirmed. People hung their heads, stores closed for the day, and there was a general feeling of gloom in the air.
“Good grief,” she said after returning to campus. “I know this is a sports town, but nobody died.”
Rebecca climbed the stairs in her dorm to reach her room on the third floor. When she exited the stairwell, she saw a middle-aged woman standing at her door. The visitor was wearing a black polka-dotted dress with a red belt and matching red hat, and Rebecca knew enough about fashion to know that the outfit cost more than her entire semester’s tuition. The woman heard the door to the stairs close, and she turned to look in Rebecca’s direction. A beautiful double strand of pearls draped around her neck and complemented the pearl studs in her ears.
“Excuse me, miss?” the woman said in an English accent. “I’m looking for Rebecca Lewis. I was told this is her room?”
Oh shit, Rebecca thought. Is that Richard’s mom? She glanced down at her own clothes in horror. Sneakers, green tights, pink leg warmers, blue jersey shorts, and an oversized pink sweatshirt. With no makeup and my sweaty hair pushed back by a headband. Rebecca considered lying and pretending to be someone else, but she knew the truth would come out eventually.
“I’m Rebecca,” she said, walking forward to shake hands with the other woman. “How can I help you?”
Lady Dublinshire ran her eyes up and down Rebecca’s body and huffed in disgust. “He told his sister that you two run together . . . I suppose that would explain your current state of dress.” She paused, then said: “I’m Victoria Arrington. Richard’s mother. I need to speak with you.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Thirty minutes later, Rebecca met Richard’s mom at a small coffee shop near campus. She had asked the older woman if it was possible to shower and change before they talked, and Lady Dublinshire happily agreed. As soon as Victoria left the dorm, Rebecca ran down to the phone at the end of the hall and called Emily. Luckily, her friend was home.
“Help! Richard’s mom is here!”
“What? From England?”
“Yes!” Rebecca screeched. “She said she needs to talk to me. Oh my God, Em, it was horrible. I walked inside from an hour-long run, all sweaty and nasty, and she’s standing at my door looking like a freaking Vogue model.”
“What can I do?”
“Come over here and help me pick out an outfit. Also bring some jewelry. Nice stuff.”
Standing in the doorway of the coffee shop, Rebecca looked down and nodded. Emily had dressed her in a crimson, knee-length pleated skirt with a cream sweater on top. Black pumps and a strand of pearls completed the outfit, and Rebecca had styled her short black hair to look as sophisticated as possible.
She took a deep breath and walked over to Lady Dublinshire’s table.
Richard’s mom looked up at her and raised her eyebrows. “Hmm. Much better. Sit, my dear.”
Rebecca did as she was told.
“How can I help you, Mrs. Arrington?”
“It’s Lady Dublinshire.”
“Oh, right. Yes ma’am.”
“Yes, your ladyship,” Victoria corrected.
“I’m sorry, your ladyship. Aside from Richard, you’re the only person with a title I’ve ever met.”
“I don’t believe I asked,” the marchioness replied coolly.
Holy shit, Rebecca thought. I can’t do anything right.
The two women sat in awkward silence, then Victoria started to speak.
“You can help me by staying away from my son.”
“Excuse me?”
“Richard told us about you while he was home for Christmas. He told us that he loves you. That he wants to marry you. Obviously,” she said, waving her hand dismissively, “his father and I will never let that happen. Richard is the heir to a very large estate and a very strong business portfolio. He needs someone who understands our world.”
Rebecca sat still in her chair. She was stunned. He loves me? Ever since she turned him down on the first day of class, Richard had never so much as hinted at their going on a date or being anything other than friends. I thought I was the one hiding my feelings from him! Her confidence grew and Rebecca started to smile.
“I could learn to understand your world,” she offered.
“My dear, it’s not something that can be learnt. You must be born to it.”
“Maybe Richard doesn’t want that life anymore,” Rebecca countered. “Maybe he wants to start over in the U.S.”
Lady Dublinshire la
ughed and shook her head. “That will never happen. If Richard abandoned his claim to the title and the estate, he would be blackballed everywhere. Our family is very powerful . . . on both sides of the Atlantic. And Richard isn’t cut out to start over. Has he told you about where he grew up? The world he is accustomed to?”
Rebecca sat up straight in her chair. Her English visitor had offended her in every way possible, disapproving of her outfit, her background, and her life choices. “I don’t think you know Richard as well as you think you do,” she argued.
Victoria smirked. “No, my dear. It is you who does not know him as well as you think you do.”
TWENTY-FIVE
The final months of business school passed by without Rebecca telling Richard about his mother’s visit. She didn’t see the point. Rebecca knew it would hurt him, and it wouldn’t do anything to change the fact that his family disapproved of her. She did take comfort, though, in the news that Richard loved her. Looking back, she wasn’t sure how she hadn’t seen it before. He never dated anyone else. Never flirted with anyone else. And he was happy to do nearly any activity as long as it was with her.
He even got me these concert tickets, she thought in early April as they drove down to Hartford, Connecticut to see Grateful Dead. The trip was her birthday present, and Rebecca was super excited. The concert didn’t start until 8:00pm, so they were also having an early dinner in Hartford before the show. It was the first time they had traveled together outside of Boston, and Rebecca embraced the time alone with Richard. We’ll graduate soon, and he’ll leave for London. Just like his family wants.
Every Star in the Sky Page 6
