Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Carter Manor
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
Author’s Babbling
About Stephanie Witter
Copyright
BE A DOLL (a Carter Manor novel)
Copyright © 2017
Stephanie Witter
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical without express permission from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
Cover Design by Stephanie Witter
Photography by luminastock (depositphotos)
Editing by Ellie McLove
Formatting by Stephanie Witter
Somewhere deep in the country, away from prying eyes, stood Carter Manor. Two centuries old, made of ancient stones coming straight from England, it was hidden by the woods on the seven thousand hundred square feet park. For many a reason, this estate was more a castle than a manor, but the large plaque made of shiny bronze with a cursive inscription straight from another time made the name Carter Manor impossible to miss on the gigantic wrought-iron gates seemingly impenetrable.
For a long time, Carter Manor had been a family estate, but when the stock market crashed in 1929 and sent the Western World in a crisis, the Carter family almost lost everything. It took the Carter heir, young William Carter III, to find a unique idea to keep the family estate and replenish their bank accounts.
From then on, Carter Manor welcomed women, either poor or from wealthy upbringing, but all beautiful and smart to become the next wealthy and rich generation’s wives.
Carter Manor made and polished trophy wives.
Carter Manor became a doll making factory.
LILA
With my throat closing, I nodded, faking a composure I didn’t feel. Mrs. Jenkins, one of the maids at Carter Manor and a very strict woman with never a hair out of place, nodded back and promptly left my room, her kitten heels barely making a sound on the polished oak floor.
I knew what was coming and my stomach already revolted to the point that I wondered if I would need to run to the en-suite bathroom to expel the contents of my stomach. I took a deep, calming breath and closed my eyes.
I didn’t want to see the luxurious room anymore and the four poster bed covered by some overpriced comforter made of night blue silk and the old ebony furniture completing the poster picture of what a historical place such as Carter Manor should look like. I put my elbow on the secretaire on either side of the book I was instructed reading, something dreary that had my mind more wandering than riveted.
In half an hour I needed to meet Mrs. Stein in her office. I was in a whole different wing of the mansion so I had to get ready fast to face the ruler of this place, a woman I despised with everything I was made of.
Mrs. Stein, with all her regal attitude and the way she often looked down on me from above small reading glasses, was nothing short of a pimp around here. It was without saying that she wouldn’t put us on the streets in inelegant clothing for men without a good paycheck to pick us up. No, that wasn’t how things worked at Carter Manor.
Here, women between nineteen and twenty-five were taught everything to be deemed respectable in order to embrace matrimonial life with the wealthiest men around the world. Did it mean that we were taught to become independent women about to be launched in the dating pool?
No, of course not.
In this world, my world for the past four years, I had been taught to become a future trophy wife. I knew when to speak and when not to. How to stand and pick clothing depending on this or that event to complement my future spouse, how to take care of a house and the employees, how to host parties and many other things considered of the utmost importance in such a world.
In the four years since I arrived here, not once had I forgotten who I was, but I learned how to hide, unless I could use my spunk to my advantage. It prevented me to be engaged to a sixty-year-old man, a widow, who happened to also be subjected to some nasty rumors regarding sexual harassments and suspicion of rape on a minor, the daughter of one of his high ranked employee. It also helped me getting away from an engagement to a man in his forties who had lost his wife in very strange circumstances, but the man was powerful enough to stay away from the justice’s clutch.
The world of the wealthiest wasn’t always as glamorous as I would have thought before I landed here.
I couldn’t escape it, though. I would turn twenty-five in four months. That was the age limit around here. After all, men coming here to get a wife didn’t want a woman too old and mid-twenties seemed like a respectable age for a woman to marry and stand by her newly appointed husband.
I had escaped two marriages.
I wouldn’t be able to get out of a third one.
I knew all along that day would come, but while I had tried to prepare myself, I still didn’t know how to cope with it. In every aspect I should be ready to become a Mrs. something or other, but inside me, everything revolted. But maybe, if I played my cards well, and by that I meant with more subtlety than before, I could get that new prospect out of my way.
With my breathing back under control, I stood up. I looked down at my elegant outfit, simple brown dress pants and a cream blouse made of silk and a brown blazer on top. Nothing seemed wrinkled, thankfully. I didn’t have the time to change. I walked to the ancient full-length mirror next to the vanity and checked my reflection. Over the years, I became acutely aware of how my hair and makeup must look when I left the sanctity of my room.
I nodded at my reflection and left my room, my Louboutin heels of the same color as my blouse clacking on the centuries old oak floor.
Chin up, shoulders back, back straight and steps measured, I walked down the wing and promised myself I’d find a solution.
***
LILA
“This is your last chance, Lila,’’ Mrs. Stein said, her voice measured but I could still detect the hint of displeasure.
Poised in her big chair like a throne behind her ancient birch and maple Louis Philip style desk, she kept her posture elegant with her back straight, her head held high and her hands on top of the desk. For all intent and purpose, this woman was strict, from her behavior to her dressing style as the night blue pant suit demonstrated.
“Yes, Mrs. Stein,’’ I replied evenly, my eyes locked on hers. I made sure to keep my perfectly manicured hands in my lap and my legs still when I burned to twist and turn.
“I don’t think you understand your situation, Lila,’’ Mrs. Stein said, her eyes narrowing further behind her small glasses. It pinched her traits so much that the tiny wrinkles in t
he corner of her eyes deepened dramatically. “You have two red marks on your file from your sabotage with the other two prospective husbands. You can’t afford another one, not if you don’t want to go back in the streets with no future.’’
I was in no position to retort anything, but the need was there, all encompassing and so blinding that I had to draw blood by biting my tongue to keep quiet. It was my damn fault for being here today and I could be mad and regret it, the end result was the same. I was at Carter Manor and while I hated everything about it, it still gave me a chance to get away from my previous life. Memories of darkness, of danger lurking in the shadows, of dirt and hunger assaulting me, freezing me to my bones.
“I see it in your eyes, Lila. You don’t want to go back there. It’d be even more difficult after living in luxury for years,’’ she went on, a certain sick pleasure in her cold voice. “You wouldn’t have a roof over your head, no three meals a day, no—‘’
“I know,’’ I stopped her, my voice barely audible through my gritted teeth.
“Do you? Because I don’t think so. Carter Manor is an institution that helped countless gentlemen through the years finding a good wife. We have very powerful people on our side, Lila. You would be out there without anywhere to go and with no money to your name. You’re nothing without Carter Manor and if you sabotage another interview, I’ll make sure you have less than nothing out there.’’
My heart beat harder in my chest, hammering a rhythm that was all too familiar. Fear clawed at me, a fear so strong it shocked me in the chair, making it impossible for me to move or blink.
Before Mrs. Stein came to get me from the streets, I was a lost twenty-year-old woman. I had no roof over my head, no car, no bank account. I had nothing. Not even friends or a degree to my name. I was in the streets, trying to survive by eating straight from dumpsters if I couldn’t afford anything else and it had been way too often. My clothes were never clean, never without a hole in them.
I had been desperate for something better, for anything really.
Mrs. Stein appeared then and offered me what she said was a chance in a lifetime. She presented it like an academy of women where I’d be introduced into a whole new world, a world where I would never have to worry about my next meal or where I would be able to shower next.
I was a pretty smart woman, but at that moment, despair won and I didn’t question it. I said yes and the next thing I knew I was flown here and my life had been once again changed.
But one thing was certain; I would never go back in the streets. Never.
“I believe you made yourself very clear, Mrs. Stein,’’ I said tightly, my nostrils flaring. “May I ask who asked for me?’’
It became more and more obvious that this time I couldn’t sabotage the interview. There was nothing I could do, but pray that the man here for me wouldn’t appreciate me in the flesh. Then Mrs. Stein couldn’t blame me.
She stood and tugged down her jacket closed with one button made of nacre. “Follow me. I better introduce you to him right away. He’s been waiting long enough.’’
I stood and silently cursed my wobbly legs. I had a foreboding feeling about this, as if I already knew that I couldn’t do anything to escape this time. God, I hoped that this man wasn’t too old and a sick individual. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and exited the office on Mrs. Stein’s heels, towering over her with my high heels and my natural height.
“Could you tell me his nationality at least?’’
She stopped at a double panel door made of the same wood as the rest of the doors in the mansion and turned toward me. Behind this door was the hall leading to the four interview rooms. I didn’t have much time to get in the right mental state, but anyway she blindsided me by reminding me where I came from. That woman was good at what she did, I had to give her that much.
“He’s an American business man.’’
“At least I won’t have to live in another country,’’ I mumbled and received a dark look from her. Mumbling had always been frowned upon. It was considered bad class and undignified. Unfortunately, as good of a student I had been over the years, I still had slip-ups that gave me a little thrill, as if the peak of my true self was a comfort when sometimes I had a hard time knowing who I was.
She pushed open the door and went straight to the second one on the left and paused. She eyed me from head to toe, probably running a check list to make sure I wasn’t lacking something and then nodded. With a last warning look from above her small glasses she turned the old knob and walked in the room.
I braced myself and followed her inside, my eyes already looking in the small room furnished with two couches made of black leather facing each other and two matching armchairs on each side. In the middle, a Regency console table with a tea service completed the seemingly cozy interview room. I barely glanced at the tapestry in the far wall or the religious theme painting. No, my eyes were glued to the man sitting on one of the couches with a thick file in his hands.
“I hope we didn’t make you wait too long,’’ Mrs. Stein said, a fake smile stretching her thin lips covered by a nude lipstick.
The man stood up and shook her hand and I was taken aback by how massive he was. Sitting, he already had an imposing aura, but standing he commandeered the space, sucking up the air and everything around. His thick wavy brown hair perfectly styled fell casually over his forehead, but that was the only thing casual about him. His tall and quite muscular body was encased in a business suit so perfectly tailored it only emphasized further more his broad chest and shoulders and powerful legs. The dark fabric enhanced the startling contrast between his ebony hair, dark eyes and his pale skin.
He looked nothing like I had expected.
“Mr. Grimes, let me introduce you to Lila Hodge.’’
His dark eyes turned to me. I expected him to leer at me, picturing my body under the conservative and elegant clothes, but he didn’t. Instead, he locked eyes with me and said nothing for a few long seconds. The intensity and the unreadable expression on his aristocratic yet very masculine face made me uncomfortable, but I didn’t move. I wouldn’t back down. I bet Mrs. Stein already cursed me in her head for not showing a demure attitude like we were taught to be upon first meeting a prospective husband, but somehow I couldn’t bring myself to it.
“Miss Hodge. Please, take a seat,’’ he said and gestured to the couch opposite to the one he had been sitting on when I walked in. If I didn’t know better I’d say I was in his home instead of Carter Manor.
“Thank you, Mr. Grimes,’’ I said using an even voice and promptly sat at the designated place.
“I’ll let you two get acquainted. Mr. Grimes, if you need anything press the button next to the door.’’
“Thank you, Mrs. Stein.’’
With one last dark look my way, she walked out and closed the door behind her, leaving me in the presence of a man who could very well become my husband, a man I had read many things about when it came to his business endeavors, thanks to the business and economy pages of the newspapers we were tasked to read.
Slowly, with a reluctance I couldn’t fully mask, I gave him my full attention. My breathing staggered when I realized his eyes had been on me all this time, studying me as if I was some bug under a microscope.
He leaned farther back in the couch, making the leather crinkle noisily under him. He kept his legs parted and one hand on the file to keep it on his strong looking thigh while his other hand ran along his square jaw.
“Do you know who I am, Miss Hodge?’’ he asked me with a deep voice that rumbled through me in a dark caress that made my heart beat faster. Everything about this man made me think of a predator trying to find the first opening to attack.
I had been ready for a sick man who wanted a plaything to parade around, I had been ready for an old man, I had also been ready for a man who would be despicable and disgusting at first sight, but I hadn’t been ready for a man so young with manners, if brisk, and good looks as Mr.
Grimes.
“It would be difficult not to, Mr. Grimes. You’re at the head of an empire after all. I believe you were on the ‘Top 50 Fortunes Under 50’ a few months ago.’’
He nodded and drew his plump lower lip with the tip of his fingers. “I see that Mrs. Stein made sure you did your homework.’’
Inside, anger slowly rose to push away the fear placating me. I hated the condescending tone that man used as if I was nothing more than a nuisance, a child he could inspect at leisure to see if I would fit to whatever list he had in his head. But I didn’t show any of this. I merely nodded my assent and waited for his next question, knowing full well that I couldn’t make a wrong move if I didn’t want to end up on the streets with no hope left whatsoever. I went through that once already, all hope and happiness snatched away from me way too young. The only thing that kept me a bit optimistic was having the impression that this man wasn’t particularly interested in me. He seemed rather disappointed which could only serve me.
“Fine.’’ He opened the file and scanned the first page, his dark eyes moving left and right as he read. He brought a hand, big and yet with nails that looked to be perfectly trimmed, and pointed at something there. His eyes found me again. “It says here that you will be twenty-five in a few months, but there’s no mention of where you’re from. This file is pretty complete, so why this oversight?’’
I frowned and tilted my head slightly to one side before I pushed back a few light brown curls about to get in my face. “You’re not without knowing that my past has little to do with Carter Manor, Mr. Grimes. If you’ve been shown my profile I believe you weren’t asking for an heiress among the ladies living here. I don’t see why it matters.’’
Be A Doll: A Carter Manor Novel Page 1