Throwing in a packet of tissues and her hairbrush, she headed out the door.
She had no problem finding the dining room, and it was as comfortable as he had promised, with pale lemon and white decor, and large-paned windows looking out at the gardens. A white stone fireplace sat at one end, and above the buffet table, on the opposing wall, hung large lemon and white painting of an abstract beach scene. The room was happy and light, and just as she sat down a young woman arrived pushing a tray.
“Miss Somers,” she smiled. “My name is Theresa, and I’m so happy to meet you.”
Belle liked her instantly. Her accent suggested a middle-class upbringing, and her manner was warm and friendly.
“It’s nice to meet you too,” Belle replied, returning the smile.
“Anything you need you just let me know. I’m, uh, so happy you’re here.”
Belle sensed the young woman wanted to say something else but changed her mind at the last minute, and returned her attention to the tray.
“Two scrambled eggs, cooked tomatoes, toast and butter, and I brought up some marmalade and some orange juice just in case, and of course a lovely pot of tea. I hope you like it. Mr. Sinclair selected it himself. It’s delivered here every week.”
“I’m starving,” Belle declared. “Thank you. It looks delicious.”
Theresa laid down a white tablecloth and placed the dishes strategically on top, then retrieved the morning newspaper and some magazines from the bottom tier of the rolling tray.
“Here you are, Miss Somers. Some reading material. There’s a phone right there on the buffet if you need anything else. Don’t hesitate.”
“Thank you, Theresa.”
The young woman flashed her another heartfelt smile, and pushed the cart out of the room. Belle started to eat, spreading the paper out in front of her. The food was hot and delicious, and the tea lived up to Theresa’s high praise.
When she was finally finished and folding up the paper, she was about to call Theresa to ask how she could reach Amaranth, when the door opened and the woman appeared.
“Thought I’d give you time to finish your breakfast, or is it lunch?” she quipped looking at her watch, eyebrows raised.
“In the States we call this brunch,” Belle countered.
“Ah, yes. Brunch. Very American,” Amaranth observed, smiling what Belle thought was an odd, twisted smile that said far more than she suspected Amaranth wanted to say.
“I have always found it most convenient,” Belle continued, and was about to relay the message from Simon about meeting them at the boutique, when she had a strong feeling not to use his first name. She always trusted her instincts and wasn’t about to doubt them now.
“Mr. Sinclair called and asked me to tell you he’ll be joining us at Orlando’s at three.”
Belle saw an immediate reaction she couldn’t identify, but like the earlier glare she had witnessed, it was fleeting.
“That’s good. Mr. Sinclair is known for his exceptional taste in apparel. No doubt we can both use his sage advice.”
You are a strange bird, aren’t you? Belle thought. Very strange.
“I’m very pleased he’ll be there,” Belle remarked, “and now, if you’ll excuse me I’m going to take a walk.”
“Miss Somers, I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Amaranth declared lifting her chin. “We have to go over your schedule.”
“The schedule will have to wait,” Belle smiled sweetly, “but thank you. I look forward to reviewing it later.”
“I see,” Amaranth grimaced. “Very well. Have a nice time.”
Belle pushed away from the table, and as she walked past Amaranth into the hallway she could feel the woman’s eyes bore into her back. For a moment she considered turning to face her but changed her mind. It was early days, and whatever the issue it would probably pass as they became more familiar with each other. Putting the supercilious woman out of her mind, Belle bounced down the stairway, through the massive foyer and out into the street.
The air was cool, clouds dotted the sky suggesting rain, and as she looked up and down the street deciding which direction to take, the joy of being back in London washed over her.
She loved the city and was thrilled to be there. Not having to worry about Sean Harrington, or her mother and sister’s arrival in Beverly Hills was a huge relief. Simon was her hero, whisking her away from the chaos, but all that aside she simply loved being with him, loved how she felt in his arms, loved how his touch sparked her skin, and most of all she was falling in love with the man she was beginning to know and understand.
Spying a park nearby, she walked briskly forward. Glancing at her watch she saw it was almost 11:30. She had been right. It was brunch she had eaten. The thought reminded her of Amaranth, and determined to push the cold, terse woman from her mind, she picked up her pace. As she neared the park she came upon a row of shops, one of which was an electronics outlet. Impulsively she walked inside. One thing she needed immediately was a phone.
The man behind the counter was Pakistani and delightfully charming. When she pulled out her old phone he broke into a huge smile, creating large dimples in his cheeks.
“I think I can make this work. Can you give me five minutes?”
“Yes, absolutely,” she replied excitedly. “I love my phone, but even if you can get it to operate here, which would be fantastic, I still need to buy something better. It’s kind of a thing with my, uh, the man I’m seeing. I promised him I’d get myself a smart phone. To match my brain,” she added laughing.
He laughed with her, then disappeared into a back room, leaving her to look through the many phones he had for sale. It was difficult to choose, and finally decided on the latest iPhone. She’d had an iPad back in Beverly Hills so the iPhone seemed familiar and comfortable.
The kind, happy man came bustling back, his large grin even larger than the one he’d left with.
“Yes, we have this working. I am not sure how well, or for how long, but it will be working for you,” he announced proudly.
“That’s fantastic,” she exclaimed. “Thank you, and I’ve decided on an iPhone. Can you do all the stuff, I mean, I don’t know how the phone thing is handled here.”
“Perhaps you should talk to the man you are seeing, ask what he would prefer. It might be better,” he suggested sounding very wise. “When you find out, come back and I will help you. I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of placing my name and number in your contacts. In case you ever need anything, you just call me.”
“That’s wonderful. Thank you. I’m so glad I came in. I’m really thrilled you got it working. What do I owe you?”
“This is no charge. We have fun to do it. Our pleasure.
“That doesn’t seem right,” she frowned. “I want to pay you.”
“Bring me American cookies one day,” he smiled.
“This is so kind of you, and I will. Thank you. Thank you very much.”
“You are most welcome. My name is Badir.”
“It’s been lovely to meet you, Badir. My name is Belle.”
“Very well, Miss Belle. We will see you soon.”
Dropping her phone in her bag, she left the store thinking what a simply marvelous moment it had been, and made her way across the street into the park.
Back in her office Amaranth was pacing. Every few minutes she would stare out the window, her fantasy alive and well, making her even more determined to eliminate Belle from the house, and from Simon’s life.
I am the one. Me! How dare she intrude into our lives. Simon knows he loves me. I see it in his eyes. He tries to hide it because he’s afraid, but I see it and I feel it. He needs me. He just has to realize it, but he won’t with that floozy flouncing around. And she has the gall to treat me like a servant? How dare she?
Sitting back at her desk, she pulled her keys from her purse and unlocked the large drawer on the side of her desk, pulling out a large, red scrapbook. It was expensive, the cover leather, the
pages thick, white linen paper. Turning each leaf she stared at the collection of newspaper clippings and photographs. She may have only worked for Simon Sinclair for two years, three months and ten days, but she had first fallen in crush with him many years before, when he’d visited her school to make a speech. He was the youngest millionaire in Great Britain, and had been invited to Amaranth’s very exclusive girls school to explain how he’d accomplished such a feat.
The moment he stood on the stage she had known without a shadow of a doubt that he was the man she would marry, and since that fateful day she had spent every waking moment working towards her goal.
When he had hired her to be his personal shopper, an opportunity she had created through careful maneuvering and manipulation, she knew it was only a matter of time before he would proclaim his love for her. The day he had hired her to be his social secretary, she knew he had done so to be closer to her, and had no doubt their destiny was guaranteed.
Picking up a heavy black pen, she turned to the back of the book and wrote Belle’s name in scrawling letters, then picked up a red felt marker and drew an X through it, underneath writing, ELIMINATE. She stared at it for a few minutes, then added, I HATE YOU. Satisfied, she put both pens back in her drawer, and flipping the pages, returned to the photographs and press releases, relishing the images, especially the ones where she’d been captured in the background.
As she always did, after viewing the photographs, she read the articles she’d enjoyed so many times before, smiling at the areas on the page where she had lovingly written Mrs. Amaranth Simington-Sinclair, in precise, perfect penmanship. She mused and read and sent adoring wishes to the man who would one day be her husband.
But first, Belle must be taken care of, she thought, vexation crossing her brow, and as if by magic, out of the ether a plan began to form in her mind.
By the time I’ve finished with you, Belle Somers, you’ll head back to where you came from with your tail between your legs. If you’re foolish enough to try to tough it out, it’ll be too bad for you.
When Belle returned to the house it was just after 2:15, and she called Theresa asking for a pot of tea and a little something to munch on. The walk through the park had been invigorating. To her great delight she’d stumbled across a small lake with swans and ducks, and sat on a bench watching an elderly couple, arm in arm, throw bread crumbs into the water.
What of your lives, she had wondered. You must have seen so much together. Do you have children and grandchildren? To share one’s life with another for so many years must be a marvelous thing.
They were still meandering through her thoughts as she washed her face and pulled her hair back in a ponytail, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Hearing a noise she walked into the living area to find Theresa with the rolling cart.
“You were right about that tea,” Belle remarked. “It’s the best I’ve ever tasted.”
“Hello, Miss Somers. Yes, isn’t it? I have at least four cups a day. Can’t seem to get enough. I brought you some finger sandwiches and scones. Our pastry chef makes the best scones ever. I highly recommend them.”
“Oh, I love scones. I’ve missed my scones!” she exclaimed. “They don’t know what scones are in Los Angeles. They’re heavy, kind of crunchy things. I don’t know how they get away with calling them scones.”
“That sounds like something I’d bake,” Theresa giggled.
Belle laughed at the comment, and as she watched Theresa place the various plates and teapot on the coffee table, she was reminded how much she liked the young woman. “Have you worked for Mr. Sinclair for very long?” she asked.
“Not very long. I was hired by Mr. Chambers, the butler. I only met Mr. Sinclair briefly. Of course I’ve seen him a lot since then and he’s always been very polite and kind to me. I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but I’m glad you’re here.”
“Theresa, thank you. What a lovely thing to say. Of course I don’t mind,” she replied quickly, seeing the young woman blush and wanting to put her at ease.
“Mr. Sinclair has a strict policy about staff not getting too personal. I don’t meant to overstep.”
“I know he does. Please don’t worry, you didn’t, and just in case he might think so I won’t tell him,” Belle grinned.
“Thank you, Miss,” the young girl smiled, then paused, looking uncomfortable.
“What is it? Is there something else you want to tell me?”
“Yes, but, it’s a bit, um–”
“It’s all right. You can trust me, Theresa. I won’t breathe a word, I promise.”
Belle could see her struggling, so quickly added,
“Up to you. No pressure,” and walked to the couch, pouring herself some tea.
“It’s just,” Theresa began timidly, stepping forward and lowering her voice, “I don’t know how to say this,” she stammered.
Belle picked up her cup and took a sip, then smiled up at her.
“Sit down and just say it,” she invited tapping the couch.
“Oh, golly, no, I’d better stand, but um, I’d just be a bit careful of Amaranth. I wouldn’t tell her anything private.”
Is that right? Why am I not surprised, Belle thought.
“Theresa, thank you very much for telling me,” Belle replied. “I’ve had my own concerns and you’ve just confirmed them for me. I appreciate your trust very much.”
Belle saw the girl’s shoulders visibly drop, and relief cross her face.
“You’re very welcome, Miss Somers,” Theresa smiled. “I feel so much better. I need to get back. Chef will be wondering what’s keeping me.”
“You have a good rest of your day, Theresa, and I won’t forget your kindness. Thank you again.”
Sipping her tea and consuming a scone, which she found so delicious she ate a second, she pondered Theresa’s warning. There was something off about Amaranth. The last thing she needed was another drama, and she certainly didn’t want anything to interfere with her blossoming relationship with Simon. She was going to be very careful around her.
“Will you be ready to leave soon, Miss Somers?”
Belle glanced up and saw Amaranth standing in the doorway.
Speak of the devil. I didn’t even hear you come in, Belle thought. All a bit creepy.
“Yes. I’ll just finish my tea and we can go,” she replied.
Amaranth raised an eyebrow.
“You don’t wish to change clothes?” the woman asked, clearly suggesting she should.
Belle sipped her tea and considered the answer. If she agreed, it might send a message that Amaranth knew better, or had some kind of authority over her, which the woman clearly wanted, but if she said no, Amaranth could take it as an affront.
“I think,” Belle answered slowly, “I shall stay as I am. After we’ve finished at the boutique I intend to do more shopping by myself, and these clothes are comfortable.”
“Very well. I’ll meet you in the foyer in ten minutes.”
“That will be fine,” Belle replied, and watched the tall, thin woman stride away.
Finishing her tea and a small sandwich, she brushed her teeth, pulled out her ponytail and ran a comb through her hair, freshened her makeup and headed downstairs. When she walked into the foyer she found Amaranth waiting for her, dressed in a brown tweed pant suit and a beige shirt that sported an oversized bow at the neck. She appeared to have no shape whatsoever, like a stick figure, and Belle almost felt sorry for her.
Probably very insecure being that thin, Belle thought as she approached. Maybe I should be friendlier, but I must remember not to let my guard down.
“This should be fun,” she remarked. “Is this place very far?”
“Not far at all,” Amaranth replied, and Belle got the distinct impression Amaranth was not viewing their shopping excursion as ‘fun’.
They walked outside, and Belle was delighted to see Parker waiting by the limousine, holding the car door.
“Parker, how nice to see you,�
�� she smiled.
“You too, Miss Somers. I trust you’re enjoying your stay?” he grinned, touching his hat.
“I most certainly am, and thank you for asking.”
She climbed into the car, followed by Amaranth, and moments later they were heading down the tree-lined street. Belle wasn’t sure what to say to the quirky bird perched opposite her, so chose to say nothing, and stared out the window, feeling completely at home as familiar landmarks whizzed by.
“We should look for more than one outfit,” Amaranth abruptly announced. “I didn’t have an opportunity to inform you about the upcoming social obligations, but there are quite a few and you have nothing to wear to any of them.”
“Are they in the next couple of weeks?” Belle asked, thinking she may have been hasty, and perhaps she might need to sit down with the woman and find out just what was going to be expected of her.
“After the Bardwell’s there’s a break until the middle of next month, but really, Miss Somers, that’s not the point. One needs to be prepared,” she snipped.
Belle had the distinct impression she had just been scolded, but the only person on the planet who was permitted to scold her was Simon, and she certainly wasn’t going to let Amaranth start reprimanding her.
“I think I’ll let Simon decide how he’d like to see me dressed for these upcoming social obligations,” she replied softly, “then you won’t have to worry about it at all. I’m sure that will be a relief for you.”
Belle’s gaze locked on to Amaranth’s cold stare. It took a few minutes, but the woman finally caved, dropping her eyes.
Round one to me, Belle thought, and the rest of the drive continued in silence.
When the car pulled up to the curb, Belle could see Simon through the store windows, chatting to a salesperson who was holding up several dresses. Parker was quick to open the car door, and as Belle walked into the store, Simon held up a shimmering, royal blue cocktail dress.
“What do you think?” he asked as she approached.
“Wow. That’s what I think,” she declared.
The British Billionaire Bachelor, Act Two Page 3