The Housekeeper's Daughter

by Palmer, Dee

  The motherfucker drugged me!

  The throbbing across my shoulder blades is odd, and I try to move my arm to ease the pain. I get a sharp pinch on the skin at my wrist, and squinting my eyes in the darkened room, I can just make out the shine of a handcuff, although I recognised the feel before the image truly registered.

  What the hell?

  My eyes feel raw and strain in the darkness to work out my surroundings. It’s too dark to make anything out; however, the dusty, bookish aroma and hint of long since extinguished cigars is enough for me to figure out exactly where I am.

  I’ve spent more days than I care to remember in this room with Atticus’s grandfather. When he wasn’t well enough to sit in the library, we would be here. It held almost as many books as most public libraries, and with the dressing room, seating area, and en suite it was bigger than most houses. He taught me many things, and I blame myself entirely for ignoring the most important: Never trust anyone. Fuck!

  I tug on the cuff, the chain rattles, and I get a little more movement when the other end slips along the iron railing of the bedpost. It’s not much, just enough for me to pitch up on my elbows and stare into the darkness. There’s not a scrap of light, not even under the door. Carefully turning my head to where I think the windows are, again, there’s nothing. No sunbeams filtering through, or moonbeams for that matter. I have no idea how long I’ve been unconscious, and the heavy velvet curtains are perfect for maintaining my ignorance.

  I let my head fall back on the pillow and close my eyelids, resting my eyes. They feel sore and tired from straining to see anything at all. Pulling at my restraints just hurts my skin, and even shaking the bedpost to get some movement simply hurts my head too much. I slump back again in defeat. This was not part of my plan. I let out a hollow laugh that echoes off into the darkness, mocking me.

  Stupid girl. Stupid, stupid girl. You couldn’t just keep your legs shut and your eyes on the prize. Worst of all, you had to show your fucking hand before everything was in place.

  How long is it going to take Atticus to find out I’ve been in his office, on his computer. I as good as told him I knew everything, and I’m pretty sure from his reaction to my outburst he must know the truth.

  If that’s the case, he will damn well know my motivation for destroying him is on fucking point. I let out a heavy breath, feeling a wave of sickness wash over me. My tummy grumbles, and I place my hand over the noise as if it will mask my discomfort.

  I need time to think.

  If he knows everything, then why am I still here? Where does that leave us? Because I doubt he was entirely honest about his intentions, given that he’s clearly happy enough to drug me and chain me to the bed. But why am I still alive? I turn onto my side, pulling my knees up to my chest and curling into a tight ball.

  Because he needs the money, you dumb bitch.

  As my eyes drift shut and exhaustion begins to take me under, I wonder why he took this route at all. Not when my heart was so damn close to giving him everything all over again. He must’ve known that; he knows me, all of me, always has. I may have told him that wasn’t the case. I wanted to hurt him, and I needed put the necessary barrier between us, but I’m stunned to think he believed me.

  God my head aches. I can’t think straight. None of this makes any sense, because even if that was the case, surely after everything we did more recently, he must’ve felt the shift between us, so why resort to such drastic tactics? Why couldn’t he just tell me the truth? Maybe I don’t know what the truth is anymore.

  This is such a fucked up mess. I open my eyes in the darkness as my mind flashes to the last time I was in here, just over five years ago.

  The curtains are fully drawn and a harsh, dust-laden light streaks across the room. The particles dance in large, billowing swirls as the gust from the open door dispels the stale air in the room. Oskar’s personal nurse has just left to take her lunch. I passed her in the corridor, and she gave me the okay to visit. I didn’t want to disturb him if he’d finally managed to fall asleep. Oskar has been struck down with a nasty virus and hasn’t been able to get up for days. I’m mid exams so haven’t been able to visit as much as I’d like. My last one is tomorrow, and I need a break. Since Atticus’s brief visit, I have been busting to tell Oskar the news.

  I walk over to the window since Oskar’s eyes are closed, and he looks peaceful, a rare state for him these days. I cast my gaze outward over the walled garden, which is filled to brimming with summer flowers and roses in full and fragrant bloom. I mentally note to make some time to cut myself a bouquet. Mrs Kraus would likely kill me, but since she spends most of her days at their London apartment, I feel safe a few missing stems will go unnoticed. I’ll get some for Oskar too; this room could do with a burst of colour from some fresh cut flowers. His fragile voice brings my focus back into he room.

  “How are they going?” He pats the space beside him. His oversized wrought iron four-poster bed dwarfs his prone figure, which seems to diminish in presence each time I visit. I swallow the lump that claws at my throat and fight the prickle of tears, which permanently threaten to fall every time I see him lately. He’s changed so much. He looks so frail I’m reluctant to even sit close when he calls me over again. The slight movement of the bed causes him to groan in agony, and it’s killing me to see such a great man this way.

  “Oh, you know, exams are always fun,” I quip with a wry smile.

  “For a smart girl like you, I’m sure they are a breeze.” I hold his hand in mine and carefully take my place just where he wants me. His hand feels cold, and the skin is paper thin, mottled with prominent blue and purple veins straddling the protruding bones. His smile is brighter than his weak, chesty voice would credit, and he squeezes my hand with surprising strength. “You study hard enough. I’m more than confident you will get all A stars.”

  “I need all A stars so I hope you’re right.” I snort.

  “Nonsense. And for heavens sake, you can relax Tia. I know you’re not really sitting down, stop hovering girl. You won’t break me.” He tuts and draws his brows into a thick line of a mock reprimand. I’m about to chuckle when he extinguishes any remote particle of humour with his next statement. “I’m already too far gone for you to cause any more damage.”

  “Oh, Oskar, please don’t talk like that.” I shake my head vigorously, unable to bear the thought for a single moment. I sit up and challenge not only him but his damn illness. “The doctor said this is just a cold. You’ve got years left, and you know it.”

  “He was being optimistic; however, I will embrace the notion as best I can. I will also concede this damn infection has taken a little of my sparkle.” He grins, his eyes twinkle, and I laugh.

  “But none of your mischief; I’ve seen the way you charm your nurse.” I raise a knowing brow, and he joins me, laughing lightly.

  “She’s a sweet lady, Tia, if I was thirty years younger.” He hums playfully, and I know at any other time I might be embarrassed at the inappropriate insinuation, but I’m happy he’s enjoying himself. Any distraction from the pain is a good thing in my book. “I’m grateful for the company even if I am having to pay for it. I have missed you.” His voice drops, and I get a twist in my gut at the heartbroken look he is sending my way. I’ve been using my exams as an excuse, and he knows it. It’s just, after he told me about his arrangement with his ‘wife’ and Atticus’s grandmother, I didn’t want to be around him.

  “I’m sorry.” I mean it. He holds my gaze with the weight of that awful conversation hanging between us. “I’m sorry I judged you, Oskar, but Cass isn’t like you. He loves me too much to put me through that.”

  “Really?” He lifts his head and turns fully to face me. The surprise on his face makes me think Atticus hasn’t shared our news.

  “Yes, we spoke last night, and he told me he isn’t going to go through with the engagement. He’s going to come back and live here for good as soon as he can.” I can’t fight the smile that splits my fac
e with saying the words, and I don’t want to. Oskar’s face is impassive, and his response is like a slap to my cheek.

  “I see.”

  “What? What do you mean, ‘I see’? This has nothing to do with anyone other than me and Atticus.” I pull my hand from his and feel the prickles of anger spike through my blood, stiffening my frame, and making my hackles rise to full attention.

  “That’s where you are very wrong.” His brow furrows, causing even more wrinkles to settle above his dark frown.

  “Well, Atticus doesn’t see it like you do. He doesn’t think expanding the company and securing whatever this engagement is supposed to secure is worth losing me. He has all this.” I wave my hand to indicate the room, the Hall, everything the eye can see, for fuck sake. “One day he will have the Kraus Corporation in Europe and Tartarus Hall and all the other properties the family owns; so maybe he’s not greedy. Maybe that’s enough for him. Maybe not breaking the heart of the girl he loves is worth not having few extra pounds in the bank.” I exhale, unloading all the anger with the rush of words. My blood feels like it’s boiling even as I try to calm myself and try to remember I’m hitting a new low for me, attacking a very poorly man with my, albeit justified, outburst.

  “The company will be much weaker for this decision Tia. It is not just your heart at stake. His mother will not approve.”

  “Atticus can handle his mother, Oskar.”

  “In the long run Tia, you need to know this is all insignificant. Atticus will only have all of this if he marries you,” Oskar responds with an even tone, unfazed by my rant.

  “Exactly. Wait… What?” I have to do a double take as his words sink in, shaking my head with the instant confusion. “Sorry, what…what do you mean? You want him to marry someone else remember?”

  “Not marry, he just has to remain engaged for a few years. I only ever wanted him to marry you. He has to marry you.”

  “Sorry, Oskar, but I don’t want him to do anything that’s going to make him unhappy. And breaking my heart kind of makes him very unhappy.” My tone is drenched in sarcasm, and I snip the words out with a tight, humourless smile.

  “Tia, you need to listen. God, if you’d only been a boy.” He sighs and my head is just a foggy mess of incomprehension. What the hell is he talking about now?

  “What the what now? Atticus isn’t gay.”

  “No, I am aware of that.” His sniffs derisively. “I am also aware that he is not my true grandson.”

  “No, sorry, you’re going to have to say that again.” I tilt my head like I’m suddenly hard of hearing. None of this is making any sense.

  “I wish he was. I so very much wish he was, but he isn’t.” His smile softens with remorse, and I take his hand. He’s obviously confused, and this is starting to upset him.

  “He has your eyes, Oskar. Of course he’s your grandson.” I cup my other hand over his and squeeze, trying to ease his rising agitation.

  “I only have one bloodline heir, and she has my son’s eyes.”

  “Oskar, are you okay? Have they changed your meds, because you are not making any sense,” I ask, my voice soothing. His eyes are glassy, and I can feel the slight tremor in his hand.

  “It’s important you don’t say anything Tia. You would be in great danger. Until you are twenty-five, until you are married to Atticus, you are in danger,” he whispers, tugging me to come closer. I chuckle at the dramatics, realising I may have lost him to his wandering mind.

  “I think you’ve been reading too many mysteries, Oskar. Maybe switch to a few bodice rippers instead, hmm?” I offer with a teasing lilt, which goes unnoticed. His grave expression sends a chill running racing through my veins. ”Oskar, you know Atticus would never hurt me.” I’m trying to comfort us both since the atmosphere has taken a drastic dark turn.

  “No, I don’t know that, Tia. I do know, however, that his mother definitely would, if she ever learns you know the truth.”

  “What truth, Oskar?” His hand goes slack, and his eyes close briefly. I don’t want to push him, but I want to know what the hell he’s saying.

  “It’s you, and this…this is all yours,” he mutters, and I resign myself to accepting his words as the ramblings of a very sick man.

  “Okaaay then, that’s great, but honestly, all I want is Atticus.” I pat the back of his hand, and he opens his eyes and turns his head to face me.

  “I know…I know, and that’s why I never told you before. I didn’t really need to. The Kraus bloodline is ultimately safe with you married to Atticus.” His warm smile is easy if only for a brief flash before he is once again all seriousness.

  “And you’re telling me now because?” I’m a little exhausted by this confusing conversation, and it’s reflected in my tone. Oskar replies, his voice rising, his tone filled with desperation.

  “He has obligations, and if he deviates, she will know. She will know how important you are to him, and she will stop at nothing—” He collapses back onto his pillows, gasping for air. Raising his voice and shouting each word manically at the end, leaving me stunned and ashamed I pushed a conversation he obviously couldn’t handle.

  It’s heartbreaking to see such a wonderful man destroyed by a cancer not content with robbing him of his dignity; it’s now eroding his mind.

  “It’s all right. Shh, it’s all right, Oskar. Atticus can handle his mother, everything is going to be fine.” I shush and calm him, squeezing his hand and reaching up to stroke the thick grey hair over his head. His brow is clammy with perspiration, hair sticking to his face. He takes my hand from his face and fixes a vice-like grip around my wrist. His eyes are wild and penetrating right through me. His whispery words die on his lips and leave me cold.

  “Promise me, don’t ever mention this…”

  “Trust me, Oskar, this one’s going to my grave.” He sinks back and closes his eyes, exhales, and after a short time, I realise he has drifted into a deep sleep. I’m a wreck, but he is at least peaceful for now. The door eases open, and his nurse pokes her head around before stepping up to the bed and taking his pulse.

  “Everything all right?” She smiles kindly at me.

  “Not sure. He seemed quite upset, incoherent actually.” I shrug hoping Oskar’s pulse is better than mine, which I can still feel racing. “He wasn’t making any sense.”

  “He’s on some high dosages of morphine, which can cause hallucinations, so you shouldn’t concern yourself too much. He’s not in pain, and that’s the main thing. Keeping him comfortable is our priority now.”

  “Of course.” I actually let a huge sigh of relief escape from deep in my chest. I think I found the thought he was losing his mind more disturbing than the actual conversation. It makes much more sense that he was talking nonsense because of the drugs.

  “Don’t pay too much attention. He’s been chatting all morning to his dead son. Kind of relieved his son is dead, because he was quite cross with him. Although most of the swear words I think were in Swedish.” She chuckles.

  “Oh, well that makes more sense than the conversation I’ve just had.” I grab my bag and lean over to kiss Oskar’s forehead. “I’ll come over on Friday after my last exam, we’ll celebrate with whiskey. I’ve come to like the taste,” I whisper conspiratorially, even if it’s a blatant lie. I swear I see a twitch of a smile on his sleeping face. He’s a devil.

  “Son of a bitch.” I curse and laugh at the same time, a hollow sound, filled with bitterness and regret, which echoes off the oak panelling of the library like it’s mocking me. I look around the room my grandfather and I loved so much. My gaze settles on his favourite chair beside the fireplace. I spent hours and hours at his side, listening to his stories, my ‘father’s’ stories, and the history of the Kraus family, and for the first time, I can’t bring myself to enjoy being in here. There are so many unanswered questions and no one I trust left to give me the answers.

  The Will I signed and should’ve read at the time, my mother has secured away from the lawyers,
and it’s in the safe. As a signatory, it meant I was never a beneficiary, but I didn’t know that back then, and honestly, I never gave it a second thought. Mother knew though, and that’s what set this whole damn mess in motion; I just know it. Her damn fear of losing everything, and now it’s very likely she’s done that all by herself.

  Perhaps I should just let it all go. If only it was that simple.

  If the payback stopped with the company, maybe. If it stopped with my mother’s death, I could easily sleep at night. But now I know the truth. I also know that this debt, if not paid in full, will only be satisfied with blood, Kraus blood. I laugh again at the irony, it’s not my blood after all; it’s Tia’s.

  “Fuck!” I spin the damn dial in the centre of the safe. After the third attempt with the exact same numbers I’ve only ever used once before, I resign myself to the fact someone has reset the code. Not someone, I muse. My reflection catches me off guard, the mirror on the far wall is too distant to see the colour in my eyes, but my dark frown is lightened by the wide, knowing smile. My anger and frustration are momentarily eclipsed with a sense of pride in the girl I once knew. I’m impressed at her new skillset even if that puts her in an even more precarious position.

  She’s clearly not that girl, not anymore.

  My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and I make to leave the library while I press the button and take Clarke’s call.

  “Yes.”

  “I have your leverage,” he informs me, and I feel tension I didn’t realise I was carrying lift from my shoulders.

  “Good.”

  “He’s not happy.”