The Glass House

by Bella Bryce

  Alice moaned as she entered. Brayden smiled to himself, knowing she would absolutely dread being made to walk down the aisle and drop flower petals as she went. Bennett wouldn't have it any other way, and seeing as it was his wedding, Brayden wasn't about to deprive his best friend of a simple and innocent request.

  "You can start with the tempo exercise first."

  Alice wasn't thinking about tempo at all as she sat on the bench, set her posture and rested her hands on the keys. A knock on the music room door only seconds into her exercise caused her to look up as Wellesley entered. She carried on playing as she watched the butler approached Brayden and say something to him.

  "Alice, I will be right back."

  "Sir," she replied, over the sound of the chords.

  Brayden straightened his already (and always) straight blazer as he walked down the long corridor with Wellesley, toward the foyer. He could tell by Evelyn's posture as he neared that she was not in a good mood. Brayden knew that much about women, and especially, about her.

  "Auntie Evelyn, this is a pleasant surprise," Brayden said, in his normal serious voice, as he kissed her twice.

  "Brayden, darling, have you seen my son?" she asked, her manner somewhat stiff.

  He immediately clocked her posture and tone of voice again. "Today is the memorial service for Elisabeth's parents; they're at the crematorium." He glanced at his watch beneath the starched cuff of his shirt showing neatly beneath his blazer sleeve.

  "Well that's rather inconvenient."

  "Is everything all right?" Brayden asked. He didn't like Evelyn's attitude.

  "One would hope so, but that doesn't seem to be the case." She raised an eyebrow.

  Brayden stared back at her, uncomfortable with the idea of questioning her not only because she was his best friend's mother, and his elder, but she was somewhat fierce when she was in one of her moods, which was most of the time.

  "My son seems to have forgotten his place. I'm here to remind him that I am still Mummy."

  He nearly gulped. Brayden never gulped anymore, but he nearly did just then. He hadn't personally experienced Evelyn Fowler being her 'stern Mummy' self for a number of years, but he saw the looks she gave her sons, even at their ages. The last time he'd been smacked by his best friend's mother was when he was twelve years old, after he and Bennett had been caught throwing stones at the ducks on Greystone's estate as they swam in the pond. He felt like a twelve year old again, standing in his school uniform, about to be put across her lap, even though he hadn't done anything wrong.

  "Evelyn," Brayden started.

  "You may be an adult, but I am still Auntie Evelyn to you."

  Brayden exhaled and put his hands in his trouser pockets. "Auntie Evelyn," he tried again, politely. "Is this about the wedding?" He raised his eyebrows.

  "It's about everything, darling. Bennett seems to have forgotten where he's come from and where his place is. He put the phone down on me last night after a rather shocking exchange of dialogue. I'm sorry to put you in the middle, but it doesn't seem like he's home anymore, either."

  "That's because Elisabeth won't be living at Barton-Court until they are married. He only wants to be where she is. Not only that, but it's been a very difficult week for her, and he's only left her side to sleep in one of the guest rooms."

  Wellesley crossed the foyer and opened one of the front doors, causing Evelyn to turn around when she heard the butler say, "Good morning, Mr. Fowler."

  Evelyn stopped speaking to Brayden immediately and her face fell.

  "I thought I'd find you here. Brayden," Jonathan nodded, acknowledging him as he entered Waldorf's foyer. Jon was precisely the reason Evelyn's face fell.

  "Sir." Brayden nodded, although rather amused as he watched Jon approach his wife. Without having any context, Brayden recognised the unusually confident stride of Jonathan Fowler as one that had 'had enough.'

  "I told the driver not to take you anywhere. Clearly, there are two of you who need to be dealt with," he said. Evelyn's eyes widened and remained that way as Jon reached her, took her by the arm, and escorted her straight back toward the front doors.

  "My apologies," Jon said over his shoulder to Brayden, as they exited.

  Evelyn was stunned silent as she went along with him, her mouth open and eyes looking between her husband and Brayden.

  Jon escorted his fuming, albeit confused, wife to his Aston Martin, opened the passenger door and watched her fold herself down into the seat. Evelyn's eyes followed him as he walked around the front of the car and settle into the driver's seat beside her.

  "I'm going to say this one time and one time only, so I suggest you listen," Jon said, as he fastened his seat belt. "You're in for one hell of a shock when we get home, and I fully expect you to spend the drive home thinking all the possibilities of what that might mean."

  Evelyn's eyes widened. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her skinny knees were pressed together beneath the cut of her mid-thigh designer dress.

  "That dress is too short to wear without tights or stockings. I'll speak to you about that as well. Seatbelt."

  Evelyn stiffly turned and slipped the belt across her chest and lap before settling against the seat, and instinctively folded her hands in her lap. Jon didn't say a word as he drove the thirty minutes of secluded country lanes back to Greystone Hall. She couldn't remember the last time Jon had driven himself anywhere.

  When they returned home, Jon parked in front of Greystone and then immediately got out of the car and approached his chauffeur, who was nearby polishing the hood of the family limo. The chauffeur took a few steps forward when he saw his employer approach, noticing Evelyn was in the passenger side of Jon's car.

  "Just couldn't say no to her," Jonathan remarked, then handed his keys to the chauffeur.

  "Sir, I-" he began.

  "Put the car away," Jon cut him off, as he walked back toward the Aston Martin. Evelyn looked up at him as he opened her door, wondering how long his newfound backbone would last. Jon only had to raise an eyebrow, the same way Bennett often did, and Evelyn slipped back into her anticipatory, wide-eye stare. She was nervous. It was obvious.

  Jon put his hand on her elbow and guided her into Greystone and kept on straight up the staircase to his study.

  "Stand here," he said, indicating the floor in front of his desk when they arrived.

  Evelyn let out an unbelieving laugh.

  "You think this is amusing?" Jon asked, putting his hands on his hips.

  "This? With you? Yes. Terribly."

  "Answer me with that tone again and see what happens."

  Evelyn turned her head to the side and folded her arms.

  "Thirty years, I've given you. Thirty years of marriage, two sons — you've wanted for nothing — don't you dare respond. I don't want to hear a word out of your mouth."

  Jon pointed at her. He hadn't raised his voice at his wife in years. Mainly, because he hadn't been around to do it, but the other reason was because she'd always beat him to it, and he never had the energy to compete. "You've had your say from the very beginning but now it's time for a change. If you want this marriage to carry on, then I suggest you show me you want it by backing down. You will not step all over me any longer, Evelyn."

  She readjusted her posture and tried to save face although she felt extremely uncomfortable.

  "I have had enough of your moody, arrogant tantrums; the way you control everything and everyone in this family. I don't like how you speak to my staff, I don't like how you dismiss me, and I absolutely despise you going behind my back. I told you to leave Bennett alone and you just couldn't listen. You chased him when I told you to leave off. I ought to turn you across my knee like a ridiculously disobedient little girl and smack your backside raw."

  Evelyn wasn't sure if someone put a 20 pence into her or her husband, but one of them was wound up and the other was raring to go. His tone and words were so, so unexpected. And strangely arousing.

  "You even
managed to turn my own butler against me! I told Willis you weren't to leave to see Bennett and that the chauffeur wasn't to drive you anywhere, yet they both somehow were coaxed into listening to the madam of the house."

  "You never said - " she tried to fight back, but Jon raised his hand.

  "I've been hearing your voice for thirty years, be quiet. It's my turn now."

  Evelyn frowned deeply as a lump formed in her throat.

  "Have a sulk. You'll need it. You've been making everyone miserable, and it's time I put a stop to it. I overheard your entire conversation with Bennett last night on the phone; I heard the way you responded to him and how you refused to apologise. It's arrogant, selfish behaviour and it's completely unacceptable. Beyond that, you sought him out on the day of Elisabeth's parents' funeral. Does your selfish agenda never end?"

  She blinked several times. Evelyn hadn't felt she was being selfish, she felt completely justified —which was, of course, a prime indication of selfishness.

  "That child has just lost both of her parents, and I will be damned if I watch you try to get in the middle of her grief by chasing Bennett."

  Jon removed his blazer and dropped it on his desk. He was just warming up.

  "Take your coat off," he said, nodding toward her.

  Evelyn shook her head.

  "Fine, I'll do it," he said, and started walking in her direction.

  "Lay one bloody hand on me," she started.

  "And what? You'll phone the police?"

  Evelyn gritted her teeth and tried to appear strong.

  "You're my wife, and you've been a bloody pain in my ass for thirty years. You're lucky I care enough to spank you because if I didn't, I'd be taking my ring off instead of my belt. Get to the sofa. Now, Evelyn."

  She didn't mean to obey straightaway, but she did. She nearly jumped as she quickly slipped her coat off. Jonathan had never spoken to her in that tone, and it shocked the hell out of her. It shocked and delighted her. It also irritated and aroused her. She was far too confused to argue.

  "Take those heels off as well; you're a naughty girl, not a sophisticated woman."

  Evelyn felt as though her various organs were beginning to meld into one massive lump of pumping blood and oxygen as she practically kicked off her Louie Vuitton heels, then scampered to the sofa like a frightened kitten. She both loved and despised Jonathan's confidence. It was bittersweet to feel like the control and power she normally held over him being ripped out of her hands.

  "On second thought, let's do this properly. Over my knee," Jonathan said, as he paused removing his belt. He sat down on the Chesterfield sofa and pulled his middle-aged wife in her designer dress and pearls straight across his expensive suit trousers.

  "Jon! Have you gone absolutely mad?" Evelyn wondered if he'd discovered an erotic novel in the drawer of her dressing table because that was the only place he would have found her fantasising about him taking her over his lap. She daren't even write about it on a piece of paper for fear of him finding it. That would have absolutely destroyed her if she had to communicate something so shamefully delicious.

  "This is for all the spoilt behaviour I've had to put up with silently over the years," he said, as he pulled his wife's dress up and over her small hips and bottom, then pulled down her satin knickers. He was sure she was ready to move on to the bedroom, but unfortunately for her, Jonathan wasn't entertaining foreplay. He was going to give her the thrashing she desperately needed. The play would come later.

  "You aren't really going to do this," Evelyn's voice quivered. She wanted him to do it, but she felt like she had to put up a fight. Otherwise, what would have been the point of her running him down for all those years?

  Jon pulled back his arm and landed a surprisingly heavy hand across her bottom that left an instant stain. Evelyn let out a shocked whine. Jon pulled his arm back and lay another, and another and another. Evelyn's reactions were one of surprise and disappointment as she realised being on the receiving end of punishment wasn't as easy as she had thought it would be. She'd never been spanked in her life but had advocated it regularly as her sons were growing up. Now, it was her turn to be made aware of exactly what happened to girls who misbehaved.

  "You're a spoilt brat, Evelyn Fowler. I've let you walk all over me," he said, landing another heavy smack to her backside. "Not anymore, young lady. Not anymore. If you think you're going to have free reign of this household, you have another think coming, and it's going to jolly hurt to sit down afterward."

  Jon pulled a wooden paddle from between the leather cushions of the Chesterfield sofa, which he'd strategically placed there before collecting her from Waldorf. If she hadn't lost her place as head of Greystone's household before then, it went out of her the moment the first swat from the paddle landed on her.

  "Jon!" she exclaimed, immediately trying to turn around so she could prove her suspicion; that he'd produced a paddle from somewhere, and smacked her with it.

  "I told you it's my turn to speak. Bite your tongue."

  "You can't – " she tried to free one of her hands and block his target.

  "I just did," he said firmly, and pinned her arm back beneath his strong grasp.

  "If you wanted to play all you had to do was ask," she shot back at him, accusingly.

  "Oh my darling, you think this is about sex?" He forced an insulting laugh, which hit Evelyn right in her chest. She violently convulsed on his lap again.

  "Let me up!" she demanded.

  "Not a chance." Jonathan brought the paddle down with a bit more force, leaving Evelyn to cry out vulnerably again. "You've embarrassed me countless times," Jon said, as he landed another smack to her backside. "You've shown me up," he said, bringing the paddle down harder still on his target. "It's disgraceful for a wife to belittle the man she promised to love."

  Evelyn's eyes couldn't pretend to be strong anymore, and tears began strolling down her cheeks, her chin shook and she let her head slowly roll downward until she stopped fighting. She submitted, lying pathetically across her husband's lap, and received the rest of a very drawn out paddling.

  "Are you proud of how you've treated me over the years?" he asked, once he paused.

  "You weren't home," she cried. "You weren't here, and we needed you," her sobs helping to bring her words to the surface.

  Jon swatted her with the paddle another four times, and then pulled Evelyn up and onto the sofa beside him quickly. He turned and took her chin in his hands. "And I am sorry," he said, seriously. His voice nearly broke. "I am sorry. I didn't know how to provide the lifestyle we all wanted, and the one you expected, and be here at the same time. There were three of you and only one of me. I did what I thought was best at the time." Jon searched her eyes. "Our marriage cannot go on like this. Either you let the past go, or you carry it until you break, but I can't carry mistakes from the past anymore. They cannot be undone, and I'm tired of feeling guilty."

  Evelyn hadn't sobbed in years. She'd barely shed a tear until that morning, and even then, they seemed foreign to her cheeks as they rolled down and splashed onto her dress.

  "I've hurt you and the boys by putting work first, and I acknowledge that. If I had been what you needed, you wouldn't have tried to find your identity in your social status, or starving yourself, or even in motherhood."

  Evelyn frowned and looked down quickly. Jon had seen a lot. Way more than she'd realised.

  "A lot of this is my fault, Evelyn, and I take responsibility for that. But there are things we need to change in this marriage, and that little thrashing was just the beginning. You've become an unrecognisable person to me over the last few years. We have a lot to discuss and quite a bit of time to make up for, and it starts with you reporting to the bedroom. Now."

  * * * * *

  "No, I'm sorry, I don't believe you." Bennett turned from Brayden's study window. "My father doesn't tell my mother anything. Nobody does." He pulled up his trouser legs and sat on the Chesterfield sofa nearby.

  Elisa
beth had been too exhausted and drained to carry on any further conversation that day, and only offered her uncle a polite greeting before Celia escorted her upstairs for a bath and afternoon nap. Much to Alice's annoyance, she's missed Elisabeth's return during her reading time. Brayden, on the other hand, had been slightly anxious to tell Bennett what he observed of his parents that morning.

  "Your father came in, took your mother by the arm and led her right back out of the front doors."

  Bennett crossed one leg over the other. "What part of that is believable to you? This is my mother we're talking about. Rather, this is my father."

  "I know," Brayden replied.

  "Whatever happened, I'm sure I'll be phoned to say there is a divorce in process," Bennett remarked, looking at his manicured nails.

  "Bennett," Brayden said, but couldn't avoid a bit of an unbelieving chuckle. "That's a terrible thing to say."

  "It's an honest assumption. You know how pig-headed she can be."

  "She is your mother."

  "I apologise," Bennett, put one hand up in surrender.

  "Gossip and intrigue aside, how was the service?" Brayden reclaimed his wing chair and straightened his cufflinks. He'd been thinking about his adopted niece all day.

  Bennett shook his head. "I don't like to think of how it would have gone if Elisabeth had never come to live with me. She would have been left to deal with all of it on her own and God only knows how she would have paid for it. Then of course, her friends gave her an earful since they'd no idea of her whereabouts."

  Brayden raised his eyebrows.

  "They weren't entirely amused to discover the ring on her finger, either. I took the feisty one aside and explained a few things to her."

  "This is Emma?"

  "Yes," Bennett replied. He'd told Brayden about Elisabeth's three friends after she'd moved in, and it was plain as plain Emma was the standout one.

  "Elisabeth always said she wanted them to be in the wedding, but I didn't think there was an appropriate time to bring them to Barton-Court and prepare them for the engagement party. These girls are a lot like Elisabeth and Alice were before becoming accustomed to our lifestyle. Frankly, I didn't want them embarrassing anyone."