by Bella Bryce
“Do I get to stay up past my usual bedtime on Saturday? I can’t very well leave the party to go up to bed, that would be rude,” Alice said, looking at Brayden intently.
He rested his cutlery on the plate and then wiped his mouth with the napkin before replying. “Uncle Bennett is hosting, so he’s the only one who can’t go to bed before everyone leaves. You’ll go up at the usual time.”
Alice’s mouth visibly dropped open and she let out an unbelieving gasp.
“Father, I can’t go to bed at half nine at my first ball! Really, I can’t!”
Brayden took a sip of wine and replaced the glass on the starch white linen tablecloth, which covered the long, impressive dining table. “I won’t have your sleep interrupted at the expense of my birthday. The party starts at five o’clock so you’ll have plenty of time to be in your dress and socialise.”
Alice sat back in the chair and folded her arms; she was genuinely irritated. The entire last few weeks she’d had a fantasy in her mind about how beautiful she would look in her dress, being charming as she held onto Brayden’s hand as they went round and welcomed people, being quite grown up and everyone having a fantastic time. It was rather idyllic in her mind, but it felt pretty squashed when he’d said she would go upstairs at the usual time to ready for bed, which was nine o’clock.
“Having a strop won’t change anything. Finish your dinner, please, Alice.”
Brayden watched Alice, who was clearly annoyed, as she picked up her cutlery and quietly returned to cutting her food.
Alice fought the temptation to remark how convinced she was that Elisabeth would be allowed to stay up late.
Chapter Nine
Elisabeth exhaled as she waited for Celia to finish buttoning the back of her ivory Peter Pan collared shirt with brown patches on the elbows. It was a gorgeous blouse, but it buttoned all the way up the back and would have been impossible to do up on one’s own, even for a contortionist.
“There you are.”
“Thank you, Celia,” Elisabeth remarked quietly, as she held her arms up.
Celia slipped a chocolate brown and cream tartan A-line pinafore with a high neckline over her head. The skater-style skirt hit her thin thighs nicely and showed a pair of ivory cable knit tights. Celia laid out a pair of brown and ivory two-toned lace Oxfords and left her to finish.
Elisabeth looked at herself in the mirror and smoothed the bodice of the dress down before inspecting the collar and straightened the sleeves so they fell down over her elbows. She adjusted the small brown ribbon tied at the collar before feeling pleased with her appearance. Elisabeth gave a small smile in the mirror. And she thought of how she missed Bennett. She really missed him.
It was the first breakfast Brayden ate with both girls since Elisabeth’s arrival. They sat on opposite sides of Brayden at the head of the table, and were quiet at first until conversation turned to the ball. Brayden listened to their innocent and excitable chatter. He never thought he would see a day when two lovely girls, rescued from difficult situations, dressed primly and enjoying what was left of their youth, would sit at his dining table carrying on as if they had always been there. It was a deeply touching moment and one that he wanted to appreciate without drawing attention to himself.
Brayden deeply wished his parents could have known Alice and Elisabeth. He wished they were alive to celebrate his birthday, and that they hadn’t suffered because of their wealth. It was all because of money that they’d been victimised and it was because of money that the girls in front of him were there at all.
“Excuse me please, girls,” Brayden said, as he placed his napkin on the table and quietly stood up from his chair.
Alice and Elisabeth stopped talking and looked up at him.
“I’ll be in the sitting room,” he added, as he buttoned his blazer and kissed Alice’s forehead before walking the long space of the room to the double doors.
“Is Uncle Brayden all right?” Elisabeth asked, watching him get further from them.
“I think he’s depressed that he’s getting old; twenty-nine is a hard age,” Alice said, sighing.
Elisabeth gave Alice an amused frown and shook her head.
Brayden sat pensively beside one of the fires in the sitting room. He’d never before left Alice to finish dining without him, but Elisabeth was there so he didn’t feel terribly guilty. Brayden could feel the time creeping closer to the ball the following evening and as it drew near, flashbacks of those first few moments three years earlier on the eve of his 26th birthday ball flooded his mind. Brayden had been wondering where his parents were for most of the party – they were beyond late, they hadn’t shown at all. He’d pulled away and phoned them several times but no reply.
He remembered exactly where he was standing at Waldorf, one hand in his tuxedo trousers, the other holding a glass of champagne, his genuine and charming smile across his face as he received the toast that evening. His brown hair, as always, swooped obediently across his forehead with a neat parting to one side. He was the epitome of a well brought up son of a billionaire. And he loved his parents. The parents who’d raised him with relentless rigidity and discipline, when required, and provided an equally unrelenting and unconditional love in the protective, formal upbringing at Waldorf Manor.
His memory of that night seemed to play in slow motion as he recalled the horror of turning around when Wellesley came to him urgently, a horrified expression had crossed the wrinkled forehead of the aged butler. Brayden had left Bennett with his champagne glass and followed his father’s butler into the foyer where two men in nondescript clothing stood. They identified themselves, but before they could explain their presence, they were joined by a third man, who interrupted their discombobulated words and announced, “We found the bodies.”
Brayden released himself from the memory and closed his eyes, covering them with his hand as if it would provide adequate shielding from the light of the fireplace. The radiant warmth across his skin would have brought comfort on any other day.
But he couldn’t help going back to the memory a few moments later; he’d barely had enough time to digest the fact that there were officers in undercover clothing in his house that night, before the third man had rushed in to give the news that not only had something happened to Oliver and Kathryn James, but something horrific and it was already finished. It was too late. Before Brayden even known that his parents had been taken for ransom on their secluded afternoon stroll where they used to picnic as a family, their lives had ended.
The attack had happened spontaneously because the plan was foiled by the birthday ball. Those involved in the ransom hadn’t realised that there would be a party and that they couldn’t show up and threaten the James family with over 100 people present. So the three men took them by surprise that day on their secluded walk in the snow-covered woods, sloppily demanding money and possessions they knew were at Waldorf out of their panic and insane greed. The kidnappers originally planned to get into Waldorf Manor and were psychotically angry that it wouldn’t happen on the day they wanted it to happen.
Brayden knew that if his parents hadn’t planned the ball, if they hadn’t gone out for their walk – the one his parents took every weekend – all of them would have all been victimised and probably seriously hurt and held for ransom inside Waldorf. It took only one week after the funeral to build a guardhouse and hire the two rotating shifts of guards to man it. He didn’t feel safe for a very long time after that.
Brayden pulled his hand away from his eyes and rested his thumb and forefinger along his jawline – the one thing most women noticed first about him. He exhaled a quiet breath as Alice approached. She stood quietly to his side, her left hand clutching the middle and index finger on her right hand. Her eyes were worried.
“Alice,” Brayden said, and sat up slightly, producing a small smile. “What is it, darling?”
Alice didn’t say a word as she went toward him and put her arms around his neck.
“Pleas
e don’t be sad.”
“I’m not sad, my love.” Brayden pulled her off her feet to sit across his lap.
“I can see it.”
Brayden couldn’t smile and he couldn’t cry, so he placed his hand on her cheek and looked directly into her eyes. “You know that you’re the most important person to me in the entire world, Alice, don’t you?” he asked.
“Yes, Father,” Alice replied, a little confused at his urgency.
Brayden kissed her forehead and Alice stared back at him before responding. “You really mustn’t let this birthday get to you. Twenty-nine isn’t old, but we all have to grow up sometime.”
Brayden closed his eyes and let out a soft amused breath. Yes, indeed. Sometime.
Wellesley opened the double front doors and Bennett entered, causing Elisabeth to stop pacing the foyer. She turned, and in the most surprising manner, went and threw her arms about his neck whilst simultaneously stuffing herself into the breast of his woollen coat and suit. Bennett glanced at Wellesley, who hid a subtle smile with easy success as he closed the doors. It was most amusing for the loyal butler who’d known Bennett Fowler for many years, to see him being showered with affection by a young lady. Or by anyone.
Bennett, of course, reciprocated the greeting by putting his arms around Elisabeth and looked down, but her face was hidden. It seemed to be something chastened and contrite girls did after spending time in thought. Alice often did the same.
“I’m sorry,” Elisabeth offered, as she looked up.
Bennett’s usually stern face had softened to a ‘firm but fair’ expression, just enough that she knew he was still in charge. Even if she was adorable. And contrite.
“Honestly. I’m sorry. I want to spend the day with you. I can’t imagine not doing so,” Elisabeth told him humbly.
Bennett looked down at her and without revealing how genuinely grateful he was for her words, he pulled her back in for another cuddle in a very reserved manner. Bennett Fowler didn’t want Elisabeth to think she could ever get around him, but she had definitely (and somehow) gotten under his tightly wound skin. He kissed her head a few times gently, but didn’t say a word as he held her in a very gentlemanly manner.
Wellesley retrieved Elisabeth’s coat and held it out for her when they pulled apart; and Bennett stepped in to button it for her. He also straightened her scarf before letting Elisabeth put on her own beret, which she managed flawlessly without a mirror. It was a sweet, quiet moment when Bennett escorted Elisabeth out of Waldorf Manor that morning.
As it was the day before Brayden’s birthday ball, contractors and staff had been bustling about the house since breakfast. Contractors were considered guests, so Waldorf’s staff were doing the usual daily tasks, whilst also ensuring the others were happy and had a catering table set up in the back corridor across from the ballroom. Constant checks ensured that the refreshments table for the contractors was replenished and tidy.
Despite the unavoidable curiosity of sounds coming from the nearby ballroom, Alice remained in the music room after Brayden gave the lesson to complete her practise, as usual. She stayed another hour beyond that when she knew Brayden would be chatting with Anabelle Greyson, the events coordinator, in his study up on the first floor. Alice had limited time to practise the most important piece of music and she needed to do so out of his earshot. She closed her eyes, imagined away the buzzing of voices and conversation beyond the doors and rested her hands on the keys.
Upstairs in the study, Anabelle sat in one of the leather club chairs opposite Brayden behind his desk. Ana worked for an exclusive events company in London and had been assigned to the James family for every one of Brayden’s birthday balls since the first, which was his twenty-first. She didn’t always get to organise their events, but having been a successful lead on various functions at Waldorf, namely Brayden’s birthday parties, they usually requested her.
Ana hadn’t been back to Waldorf since Brayden’s 26th, three years earlier. She certainly hadn’t expected to return after what happened to his parents and after learning Brayden had stopped hosting at Waldorf since then.
She was pleasantly surprised and delighted to find herself in Brayden’s study two weeks after receiving a request for a quote from Bennett Fowler. Ana had never previously dealt with Brayden because his mother, Kathryn James, used to be her point of contact. It seemed strange to be there, speaking to him, especially on the other side of his desk as if she were a pupil and he were the headmaster. Brayden didn’t behave as such because he was a humble and complete gentleman, but Ana couldn’t deny that a quiet but obvious authority was as present as the sophisticated manner in which he dressed and carried himself, which she found quite tickled her.
“Thank you for taking a moment away from your tasks. I realise you’re very busy; I shan’t keep you long,” Brayden said, as he made eye contact with Ana.
She was very professional and refused to blush at his deeply attractive nature. “It’s no trouble at all, Mr. James,” Ana said, smiling and meeting his eyes before she leant over in the chair and replaced a folder into her smart leather work tote. He waited for her to sit back up in the chair before he carried on.
“Wellesley mentioned your staff needed a few things. Was he able to sort that for you?”
“Yes, he’s been very helpful, thank you. Mr. Wellesley always is.”
Brayden smiled, finding it sweet that Ana added a ‘Mr.’ to Wellesley.
She was thinking of how peculiar it was to have never really interacted with Brayden, yet she knew a lot about him because of how many years she’d planned his birthday parties. Suddenly, there she was back at Waldorf planning another birthday ball and speaking directly to him.
“I apologise for not making myself available before today. Your team looked so terribly busy, I didn’t want to interrupt. When I knew you were coming, I had a look through my late mother’s things and thought you would be interested in some of her notes. I hadn’t realised she was so detailed,” Brayden said, as he referred to a file folder on his desk.
Ana’s smile turned solemn. “She was very organised. And certainly the only woman of her position I’ve ever known to be so involved in these things. She kept files for every event. Frankly, it’s only because of my working with her in the past that I’m here. I’m the only one from the agency who knows how to do your birthday ball the way she liked it,” Ana told him in a humble manner.
Brayden didn’t want to be overt in his reaction to her compliment – surely Ana hadn’t even realised she’d given one. Her manner was too genuine to pay unnecessary flattery.
“Thank you,” Brayden said, giving Ana a polite nod and smile.
Ana offered the same in return. She hadn’t been sure how to mention Kathryn without being obvious or insensitive toward Brayden.
“That’s why I asked the agency to send you. Every year has been a success,” Brayden said, his manner turning more business-like, albeit maintaining his polite nature, “and I trust with these notes and your experience, everything will be perfect.”
Ana nodded and received the folder that Brayden offered to her across the desk.
“I apologise for not giving them to you sooner. I’ve only just managed to find them,” Brayden said, for the first time avoiding eye contact. He cleared his throat and straightened his blazer as Ana held the folder in her lap. Out of respect for the situation, she wouldn’t open it until she’d left his study.
“Not at all. I feel very confident you’ll recognise tomorrow as the birthday ball you’re used to. Well, I certainly hope so,” Ana said.
“I’m sure I will. Although, it isn’t my opinion you should be completely concerned with; it’s my daughter Alice’s first formal ball so there will be fresh eyes on tomorrow evening. The rest of us have been to so many I’m sure we’ve lost count and take the excitement for granted.”
“Yes, Mr. Fowler told me you had a daughter,” Ana said, her face lighting up.
“I adopted her earlier this year,�
�� Brayden said.
“She must be the little girl I saw peeping in on us earlier. She disappeared so quickly I wasn’t sure if I’d actually seen her or not. Oh how lovely. How old is she?”
“Alice will turn nineteen in the spring, but she is regarded by me and everyone else as ten years old. I’m afraid she comes from a terribly traumatic past. I’m trying to provide her with the childhood she was unfairly deprived of,” he told Ana, realising that she might well think him completely mad. Neither did he care, because Alice was his daughter forever.
Ana’s face slowly faded from a smile of excitement over the prospect to one of being completely touched. “Bless her heart,” Ana replied quietly.
Brayden saw a somewhat vacant look in Ana’s eyes momentarily and she plastered a small smile back across her lips and reconnected with his attention.
“I’m sure she’s very grateful to have been given a new life. That’s very admirable, if I may say, Mr. James.”
Brayden gave her a small nod, “Thank you, Ana.”
She looked down at her hands as a quiet and meaningful moment lingered. Brayden had received a favourable reaction and so he moved on. “On that note, Alice is very excited. I’m sure she will tell me what she thinks of it all when it is finished.”
“Please pass along her comments – the senior leadership team loves using our clients’ feedback for marketing. Especially someone Alice’s age. It would definitely be a unique demographic to use,” Ana said, admiring the thought.
Brayden hid his surprise well; Ana had completely ignored Alice’s chronological age. Whether out of respect as his contractor or otherwise, Ana didn’t seem to take issue with it. Suddenly, Ana being very pretty, intelligent and talented was nagging at him. Not only was she those things, but also she liked Alice and didn’t even make a nonverbal fuss at the circumstance.