by Gigi Thomas
“But, why now?” To say Kenya was overwhelmed at seeing Caden go from not knowing his daughter existed to this would be a gross understatement. He didn’t even have the paternity results yet, but he already had the other papers drawn. Kenya returned to the folder to peruse them thoroughly. There was even a document petitioning to officially change her last name, so she would be Cadence Hargrove instead of Morris. The documents were not only what was needed for the UK, but Caden had gotten the required forms to change her birth certificate and other documents in the U.S. as well. Kenya looked over the forest of documents in awe. “Why all the urgency?”
Caden was silent for a few moments. Tilting his head back, he absently stroked his Adam’s apple. It’s what he used to when he was agitated or trying to avoid saying something, Kenya remembered.
“Don’t you have a will, insurance, and other plans set up for her future to protect her in case something happened to you?” he asked.
“Of course I do,” she answered. “I’m her mother.”
“And, I’m her father. Why wouldn’t I want to ensure the same thing?”
For the first time, Kenya began to believe that maybe, Caden knowing about his daughter would prove to be a good thing after all. She wasn’t willing to presume his reaction would’ve been the same five years ago, but maybe Tasha was right. Maybe Caden would make a better father than he did a boyfriend. He certainly seemed intent on doing everything he could. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter what happened between us, Kenya reminded herself. We didn’t need to be friends. All I needed from him was to be there for my daughter like a father should. She would still be vigilant, though, until she was certain about him.
~
“It’s a castle! Mommy look, it’s a real castle!” Cadence jumped excitedly clapping her hands.
“It certainly is.” Kenya looked up at the imposing stone structure with leaded glass windows and walled side garden. It looked more fathomable as a prestigious boarding school or a fancy hotel than a private residence.
“Is this where the Queen lives?” Cadence asked.
“According to your grandmother,” Caden bent down and lifted her in his arms. “Yes.”
“Mommy, let’s go inside!”
"I can't do this." Kenya stood frozen before Caden’s childhood home.
"Don't worry, Yaya," Caden said trying to reassure her. He could understand her having a reasonable fear of meeting his mother. A fear of Lady Mildred Hargrove was always reasonable, but he had at least to pretend. "Mum's excited."
“What does she know about Caydee? About me?”
“I already told you; she knows everything. We dated at Harvard, I didn’t know—well we didn’t know—that you were pregnant when I left, and that I was an insufferable prat that never contacted you, so I didn’t find out about my daughter until now. Does that pretty much cover it?” he asked.
“And that’s it? That’s all she knows?”
“What else should she know?”
“Don’t be naïve, Caden. You know what I’m talking about. I don’t exactly have the whole Markle look going on, and people had enough issues with that. I’m sure I’m not exactly what your parents had in mind. I’m not trying to bring my daughter into a world, into a family where she’ll be looked down upon or have to suffer snide remarks and thinly veiled comments. And, don’t call me Yaya!” she ended remembering his use of his former pet name for her.
“Kenya! Really?” Caden looked visibly offended, and a little embarrassed. “I told you my family is not like that. Having titles doesn’t mean that anyone feels any different or better than anyone. We’re just people, like everyone else.”
“Really? Because, you grew up in a castle, Caden,” Kenya countered.
When the car drove through Groveton, which was called Hargrove Village until its growth in the 18th century, Kenya realized she wasn’t prepared for this. Not only was the town’s name derived from Caden’s family’s, but remnants of the old Village and the current family was evidenced, as they passed everything from Hargrove Grammar School to the community center, Hargrove House.
The stone buildings and occasional person on horseback made the town look as though it was from another time. Nearing the end of the town, the buildings were even older, and Caden’s Bentley Bentayga SUV drove past Hargrove church and graveyard on one side which was flanked by a small river or large stream on its opposite side. A tall stone wall and hedge stood behind the body of water.
The car had made a sharp turn at the corner, crossed the water on a stone bridge, and entered the property. Above the arched entrance was a square stone turret at least thirty feet high with lookouts on top, where Kenya imagined knights or medieval soldiers once stood to watch over the castle, announce a visitor, and be the first line of defense in case of an attack. There were slits in the walls for firing arrows at intruders. They drove under the archway, which connected the gatehouse to the walls Kenya had noticed from the road.
After entering the property, they still had to drive the entryway—another road in itself. To the left, the front lawn was at least the size of a football field. The lawn to the right of the drive was double the size of the one that fronted the property. Finally, Kenya noticed, the entire acreage of land where the house stood was surrounded by water. It was not a natural occurrence but man-made, Kenya realized, because it surrounded the property in something reminiscent of a square river with soft corners.
“There’s even a freaking moat!” Kenya said, throwing her hands up in frustration.
“It’s not a moat!” Caden protested, his face reddening a bit.
Caden could probably argue that the house was no longer a castle, since the original 13th century fortress had been rebuilt and renovated several times. Though a turret and original castle walls remained in the East and the rear, the mostly 19th century stone structure was a hybrid between castle and Gothic manor. However, Kenya was right. There was a moat. It was no longer used as a protection against invading marauders, and now was simply a remnant from the castle’s storied past. Still...it was a moat.
“Look, I swear,” Caden began. “Mum can’t wait to meet her granddaughter.”
"Well, I'm sure if she can't wait to meet her then she probably can't wait to kill me. She’ll hate me. I know it."
“She’s well aware that it was my fault that I didn’t know.” Caden walked towards the steps and opened the door, leaving Kenya no choice but to follow him.
“She may know it’s your fault, but you’re her son. She’ll still blame me for not trying harder like you did.” Kenya hissed. She fell silent, trying to remember who was who in the family.
“I’m sorry,” Caden said, placing Cadence on her feet, as they stood in the vestibule.
“What?”
“About blaming you. I was surprised and angry, the latter mostly with myself. I guess I didn’t want to admit how much my leaving cocked things up when I—”
“Come on!” Cadence said, tugging on Caden’s arm. Kenya’s hesitance was bad enough, but with Caden now hindering her chance to be inside a real castle, she’d had enough. He conceded and led them into the main house.
"We're here." Caden announced, his voice echoing in the massive room.
Kenya lost her breath as she stood in the Great Hall. It was easily twenty feet wide and thirty feet long encased with windows to the right and an exit to the garden. Opposite stood a stone fireplace that was half the ceiling’s height. It must be six feet tall; because Kenya noticed it was only a few inches shorter than Caden. The brick wall before them had cut outs to frame a full standing suit of armor, which was flanked by breast plates and helmets on each side.
In awe Kenya looked up at the Hargrove coat of arms hanging proudly before her. She was so out of her element, it was no wonder Caden left her when they were in college. There was no way their relationship could’ve worked. His was a completely different world than anything she had seen, much less experienced. We are so far from Kansas, Kenya thought to he
rself, I don’t think we’re even in Oz anymore.
Aside from the trio, the room was empty, and Kenya breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe that meant that the family wasn't here. As much as she dreaded meeting and being snubbed by them before, the prospect of them boycotting the meeting was very appealing at the moment. Her relief was short lived.
“There you are! We thought you were going to enter through the garden!” A very pregnant woman said entering the room. Her blond ringlets were swept to the side, and her sparkling green eyes were exactly like Caden’s. And Caydee’s, Kenya realized.
“Blimey! You’re even bigger!” Caden exclaimed, taking her in his arms.
“It’s so common of you to say something like that,” she scolded.
Kenya just looked down at the comment. Yeah, that’s exactly why she did not belong here. She was common. As if hearing her thoughts, the woman turned to her, smiling.
“You must be Kenya. It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”
“Ya—Kenya, this is my sister, Charlotte Shelton; Auntie Lottie to you, Caydee,” he said, beaming.
Kenya could tell Caden was trying to downplay the whole noble thing by not introducing his sister as “lady.” She had grilled him earlier, so Kenya knew his sister became a Viscountess after she married. That meant Kenya was supposed to refer to her as Viscountess Shelton or Lady Shelton, though apparently not Lady Charlotte, since she was not born a Lady. Kenya had been doing her research on the titles and what they meant.
As far as ranking went, Barons were on the bottom of the totem pole for what was called the upper peerage. The rank of Baron, however, was one of the oldest titles in British nobility. Either way, since the children of Barons weren’t titled Lord or Lady, but as “The Right Honorable,” Charlotte officially became a “Lady” by her marriage to a Viscount. Her title was connected to her husband’s name.
Learning this, Kenya foolishly hoped that it somehow meant the family was more ordinary. A nice house, sure. Maybe even a mansion. But, you know, not a freaking castle! Yet, as she learned in her research, the title itself does not necessarily indicate much about the family’s wealth or history. Apparently, Caden’s Barony has existed for over 500 years with the Hargrove family being in the area for another 200 before that. Caden was the 14th Baron Hargrove. Added to that, the Hargrove family coffers were well stocked, so they were in a better financial position than many.
While other higher ranking families lost their fortunes, due to wars and industrialization, the Hargroves maintained and improved their enviable financial position over the centuries through shrewd investments and shrewder marriages. Kenya should’ve remembered too that Caden’s mother, Lady Mildred, was the daughter of a duke and a third or fourth cousin of the Queen. With the evidence of this knowledge before her, all Kenya could think of was how far from each other’s worlds they really were. How her daughter was supposed to be a part of this world as well as hers was beyond her.
Ripping her out of her musings, Caden continued the introductions. “And this is Lottie’s ever annoying husband, William.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Viscount Shelton.” Kenya smiled as though this was the most natural thing in the world. Here she was standing in an actual castle of all places talking to a person with a title she never even knew existed before this week. Maybe she should’ve read more historical romance novels during her free time. With all their Dukes and Lords, they might’ve provided better preparation for this than her statistics and economics studies seemed to now. This was one of those times where she would have to fake it and hope that she could make it.
Kenya and Caydee were also introduced to Caydee’s cousins, Henry and Victoria Shelton. Finally Caden turned to introduce them to his mother, Lady Mildred Hargrove. She was a slender woman with steely blond curls, brushed out to soft waves that, if one looked closely, were beginning to gray. She was tall and regal, her head held high, with an expression that Kenya couldn’t decide where it fell between curiosity and disdain. The cream cardigan she wore over the matching silk blouse and the green and gray argyle skirt created a classic look that was stylish in its simplicity.
Cadence was excited to meet her cousins, aunt, and uncle, and she was thrilled to find that she had, in Lady Mildred, a “Nan” to add to the Grandpa from Kenya. Kenya knew that going from their small Morris family to the large Hargrove clan would take some adjusting to say the least. Everyone welcomed them with open arms, literally. Kenya was surprised with all she’d heard about the British aversion to displaying physical affection. With Lady Hargrove however, the hug felt more reserved.
After the introductions were complete, Lady Hargrove suggested they have tea in the oak room, as it was smaller and more intimate. Small and intimate, Kenya realized, meant a room twenty feet long rather than thirty feet. The oak paneling on the walls was stunning, and the mantle on the fireplace was easily not only six feet high but also eight feet wide. They sat on one of the white sofas, which did look less formal than the stately red velvet mahogany ones in the Great Hall.
“What exactly is a Viscount?” Kenya asked.
“A waste of space for the most part,” Caden answered for his brother-in-law.
“I mean, how is that different than a Baron or a Duke?”
“Well, in rank, it is below a Duke and Earl and one level above a Baron,” Shelton replied, then added for Caden’s benefit. “And about ten levels above in character, looks, charm...” The pair laughed, their banter obviously a game they had been working on for years. Seeing Caden’s amusement made Kenya chuckle as well.
“So does that mean you are in line for the throne as well?” Kenya joked.
“Based on the current standings in primogeniture around 83 people would have to die, I think.”
“But, who’s counting,” Caden rejoined.
“So is this a thing?” Kenya asked, surprised that what she thought was joke actually had a serious answer. “Nobles just know how many dead people they are away from inheriting the throne?”
“Some of us have a lot of time on our hands,” Caden joked.
“Wait, does that mean that my daughter is somehow now in line for the throne as well?”
“Don’t worry,” Caden said leaning closer though he sat beside her. “At least 112 people will have to perish, before that happens.”
“What? Wait, seriously?” Kenya asked, at first joking as well, before the terror of that prospect hit her: The Right Honorable Cadence Hargrove. Okay, it’s 112 people. Of course, that was many millions of people closer than before.
“What were you saying about people having time on their hands?” Charlotte joined, in part defending her husband, in part teasing her brother.
“I went to Kenya once in the seventies,” Lady Hargrove said, her awkward comment causing her son’s face to go red with embarrassment. “Have you been?”
“No.”
Kenya didn’t want to say that though she always planned to visit her namesake one day, she didn’t have the ability to just pop over to the continent when she was growing up. More than that, if the only thing Caden’s mother could think to say to her was some off-topic suspect reference about her name, they were in for a very long day. Kenya could not meet Lady Hargrove’s eyes, and the latter kept looking at her with a stony expression.
She was looking down on her; Kenya knew it. She hated this: the idea of having a bi-racial grandchild, her son having a child with a black woman, and a poor American at that. Kenya was fairly certain that his mother found out about them and called Caden back to England and that’s why he disappeared five years ago. Maybe she threatened to cut him off or disinherit him or something. It’s one of the only things that made sense.
Things had been going so well between them, especially at that time. Caden’s disappearance more than shocked her, it nearly destroyed her. Kenya had actually pictured them staying together, spending a life together. That was not something she normally did. She had even forgotten to think about his family and who they wer
e. It didn’t matter who they were. Whatever his mother’s hesitance, Kenya was not going to allow her daughter to be treated like a second class citizen.
Cadence seemed to be getting on well with her cousins so far, and Caden’s sister seemed enamored, but it was obvious that Caden’s mother ruled here. If Lady Mildred did not accept Caydee, then she would never feel accepted. Kenya was not going to parade her daughter for punishment or let her think that she needed to beg for someone’s approval, least of all from someone whom she shared blood. If she didn’t want her in the family, Kenya was more than happy to oblige.
“I’ll go see what’s keeping Cook,” Lady Hargrove said before rising to leave the room. Those few words were the most she had spoken to Kenya, though the sister and brother-in-law were especially nice.
Kenya decided to offer her assistance, and she quickly left the room behind her. She would rather get this over with now and she much preferred to be insulted away from the rest of the family. For her daughter’s sake she would give it a try.
"Hello, Lady Hargrove." She stepped into the dining room too anxious to admire its grandeur. Is this what happened after a while? Do people get so accustomed to this kind of opulence that they stop noticing it?
The two women just stood in uncomfortable silence. Lady Hargrove was unable to look her in the eyes, and she quickly turned around and focused on straightening the dinner service.
"I'm sorry." Kenya finally said.
“Are you? For what exactly?”
"I...I should have told you all?” Kenya wasn’t sure if that was the right answer, but it was probably what she wanted to hear. “Told Caden. I guess I could’ve tried harder to find him."
“You think so?”
Kenya was silent for another while. Okay an apology is not what Lady Mildred wanted, so what did she want from her? Maybe she was right in the beginning. Well, Kenya thought, she wasn’t going to bend over backwards for a woman who had no intentions of accepting her. She would just tell her like it is.