Chapter Ten
Why didn't Ethan ring at one minute to seven, I check my mobile, it's showing thirteen minutes past, for Pete's sake Violet he's busy…safeguarding, 'yeah that's it', I go back to staring at the bed's crimson red canopy above me deciding to give it ten minutes or so then ring.
Thoughts flit from one thing to another, the one my mind settles on is Ana, I regret telling her not to call me again, she did sound genuinely sorry and sad, scrolling to her number I jolt bolt upright as my mobile rings, Ethan, heart leaps, 'hi', quickly I answer.
'Dia duit stranger', he greets.
'Oh Gabe, hi yourself, not heard from you in yonks, how are they hanging', I smile.
'Dangling to the left, Michelle has me wrecked', he laughs.
I laugh, 'how's all with her and Millie'.
'Tripping along, enjoying your holiday up in Haggis Land', he jokes, oh, he must have been chatting to Ethan.
'Yeah I am', idly I fidget with a tassel of a poster's drape, 'snow, blazing log fires, very restful'.
'Bejazus you should've dragged Ethan with you for a rest, he looks like shite', a lot on his mind Gabe. About to ask when he saw him, "Gabegabe the dough is ready, throw it up in the air to make my pizza", Millie's sweet voice shrills excitedly in the background, 'two tics Vi babe...due minuti mio amore Millyfilly, lavare i pomodori prima, two minutes Millyfilly, wash the tomatoes first, only the tomatoes, no Barbie dolls this time', his loving voice full of pride teaches and explains, what a lovely snippet of happy family life, I sigh.
'Back with you Vi, as I was saying he looks like shite, thought it was the Elephant Man knocking back Scotch when I swung by on my way to pick Millie up from the monster in law an hour ago', Ethan's home...why didn't he come here, 'bejazus Orpheus is as mad as snake, after a hoof in face like that I'd have put the fucker down'.
'Yeah', I blurb distractedly fingers twisting the tassel's silk strands.
'Oh yah before I forget, mark in your diary Vi, last weekend in April, a shindig in our gaff in Amalfi to celebrate my gallery's first successful year'.
'Will do, count us in', again a distracted blurb.
'Great, got to go, rescue either Millie or the tomatoes, slán leat'.
'Slán Gabe', ending the call I scroll immediately to his number and tap to call.
Two rings, 'my love, I was on the point of calling you, I apologise I am rather late on this occasion', his voice sounds croaky, Ethan's voice never croaks.
'Are you ok Ethan', I ask.
'Of course', voice normal, Highland's altitude playing tricks on your ears Violet, 'how are you my love'?
'Grand, missing you milord', I smile, 'but miffed why you're at home and didn't come straight here from RC, Gabe just called, said he thought you were the Elephant Man knocking back Scotch, pretty nifty of you blaming poor lame Orpheus'.
"Ethan", a faint voice, for a split second a whirl of confusion whips through my brain, for fuck sake Violet get a grip...Ana lives in Seattle...altitude, he laughs loudly, 'quite descriptive of Gabriel', I hear a door closing, 'dear oh dear, poor lame Orpheus, the best excuse I could muster. My love I arrived home earlier in the day with Holland to ascertain all is well, which it is'.
Relived about that, 'everything ok with RC', I ask finally releasing the tassel.
'Indeed, enhanced security measures in place, all is well', he murmurs.
'Great, home I go', blurts with more relief, I'm off the bed and heading for the cavernous dressing room to pack.
A deep sigh resonates in my ear, 'the day after tomorrow my love'.
'No I want to go home now, the castle's haunted', I snap.
'Violet heed, I said the day after tomorrow', a stern tone that's not to be argued with, 'I assure Aberdeely Castle is not haunted, not a ghoul, poltergeist or clanking chain to be had', he adds woefully hiding amusement.
'Fine, the day after tomorrow', I huff, 'oh yeah, Gabe said last weekend in April, party to celebrate his gallery's first year, their gaff in Amalfi. We should go we could do with a bit of craic'.
'I concur on the craic, we shall discuss the matter closer to the time', a distracted reply, he's not interested so we're not going, annoyance bubbles, 'my love I shall call you tomorrow I must away, have a pleasant night'.
'Ok, until tomorrow', I end the call, let out another huff, hurl my mobile onto the bed and run to the bathroom with a nice long bath in mind to erase annoyance.
Up to my neck in bubbly water, muscles relax, I close my eyes and breathe deeply, warm floral steam soaks my nostrils, Ethan and Gabe's conversations float round my mind, brain focuses on Ethan's, stubborn to a fault...well...I've had enough. I'm out of the bath in two seconds flat.
Within fifty minutes I leave the castle's grounds via its allocated high spec fandangled Range Rover with terse SatNav lady telling me my journey time is eight hours and forty four minutes and to turn right. Slowly I do, it's not snowing but driving conditions aren't great, fumbling with the controls I manage to turn on the jeep's headlights and squash marginal guilt caused my skulduggery.
Marginal only because I got the strong sense if I told Mrs Steward I'm going home she'd have contacted Ethan and he'd have banged on and on until I caved. So I lied, said I was having an early night and didn't want to be disturbed until the morning, 'anyway it's about time Ethan learned to stop being so bloody overcautious and protective...it's driving me loopey and he'll end up getting one massive stress related hernia for his trouble'.
Eyes glued to the road, terse SatNav lady wittering, I can't help laughing at my abysmal stealth skills, it took me ten minutes alone to find a rear door, the huge heavy front ones would have creaked and echoed too much. But I was clever enough taking the route to the stable that was converted into a garage via snow covered shrubbery, 'maybe not though', shifting uncomfortably in the cream leather seat, 'I'm soaked through...bloody hell that's all I need...pneumonia', I crank the heating system up to full.
The sumptuous bath I took after Dr Maher came and left did little to eradicate twisted nerves, the soft comforting towelling bathrobe I'm wearing is doing little also as tentatively I press the button to make the call, 'Ana baby', he answers after the usual two rings.
'Hi Christian', barely the words come out.
'Baby what's wrong', he asks instantly.
'Are with Tristan'?
'No we've stopped for a break, he's outside with the ranch manager, why', tone perplexed.
'I need you to listen carefully', a sharp intake of breath I hear, 'what I'm going to say, you can't repeat to Tristan, tell me you won't'.
'What's this about Ana', concern rises in his voice.
'Give me your solemn word first Christian'.
'Ok, you have it', quickly he replies, my breath inhales sharply then I tell him what I've done and what Ethan said about Vi.
Complete silence, 'Christian'.
No response, 'Christian, face to face he'll tell you everything, you'll have your guarantee, then all this can end, I'm leaving Hillingham Hall for Manor house'.
Again no response, 'please Christian talk to me, I beg you', the line goes dead, my heart hammers against my ribcage.
Hastily I dress in the clothes I arrived in, they've been perfectly laundered and pressed by I presume a member of staff. As hastily I grab my handbag and Blackberry, automatically check for a missed call or email, none, bleakly I look around the exquisite guest suite.
Momentarily I stare at the classic crystal vase on the ornate elegant dressing table showing casing beautifully arranged mauve, cream and pale pink hyacinths, their scent forever engrained in my mind, swiftly I leave the suite.
Embarrassingly a member of staff who's vigorously vacuuming the corridor's plush cream carpet has to direct me in the opposite direction for the main staircase, cheeks flushed I reach them, recognize the grand hall below and hurriedly descend to the first landing.
As I continue I try hard to ignore the portraits of ancestors that seem to be glaring at me, their disapproving eyes following me, eyes mist as they glance over Vi's and Ethan's hung prominently and proudly.
Stumbling on the last two steps I cling to a balustrade before I fall, 'is all well Anastasia', Ethan's voice wafts, I look to see him striding across the hall from the direction of the library, 'shall I summon the physician again', tone concerned.
'No thank you', I mumble, 'I've called Christian, relayed what you said about talking to him I'm ready to leave'.
'Very well', he eyes me closely, 'I shall gladly summon a driver but I suggest you take nourishment first', frantically shaking my head, 'I insist Anastasia, come, this way', he gestures to somewhere, too dizzy to move, 'good grief twice in one day', in a second I'm swept up into his arms and carried.
'Put me down', I protest flashbacks of being naked in bed holding him in my arms crash waves of dizziness and embarrassment around my brain.
'Indeed not, you are exceptionally wilful but you will eat before your departure to Manor house', I can't tell by his tone if he's amused or annoyed but he's certainly not embarrassed.
Setting me down in front of a door, only for a handle you wouldn't know it's there, it blends seamlessly with the subtly gilded wall. Opening it, he ushers me into a traditional style kitchen, although humongous it's warm, homely, 'private family kitchen', he murmurs and directs me to the large chunky wooden table, pulls out a chair, I sit.
In silence I watch him go to a slim chrome freestanding water cooler fill a glass, stride back to the table and hand it to me, sipping at first then I gulp it down, I was parched, 'more', he asks, I nod, 'of course, please do make yourself comfortable Anastasia', he nods, indicating my coat.
While I shrug it off, place it and my handbag on the chair next to me he has the glass refilled and placed on the table, 'sip this time, do not gulp, cold water on an empty stomach is not pleasant', a brief smile then he walks with ease and elegance to a huge shiny black fridge.
Only now I notice he's barefoot wearing well-worn faded black jeans and his black U2 tee-shirt with Achtung Baby emblazoned across it has seen better days, 'are you a fan of U2', blithers.
'Longstanding yes', he replies bringing a glass lidded dish over to a state of the art range, opens the door of the one of the stoves, places the dish inside, closes the door and sets the digital controls, 'ummmm', his eyebrow arches in thought, 'what say you to a red to accompany venison casserole'.
'I don't mind', I mumble unsure why he's asking me, he strolls to an antique Welsh dresser, opens a lower cupboard, extracts a bottle of wine from several that are racked, 'this should suffice', brings it to the table, 'have you quite recovered from light headedness', he asks, I nod, 'excellent therefore may I trouble you to set the table, all you require is contained within the drawers of the dresser'.
He walks off to the far side of the kitchen, I get up, make my way to it, steadier on my feet than I thought I'd be, knowing nothing but trouble and strife lie ahead once Christian arrives in Hillingham, "which he will Ana", my sub-conscious hiding behind a couch fearfully whispers.
Knives, forks and plain pale green linen napkins gathered I bring them to the table, melodic rhythmical music quietly fills the air, glancing, it's coming from an iPod docked in a sleek contemporary docking station, 'not to your taste', he asks stood by it.
Listening intently, a male voice is singing in a language I've never heard before along with women's, it's exotic and atmospheric, 'I like it, what is it'?
'This particular track is entitled Tenhert by a band named Tinariwen', suddenly he grins, 'I took the liberty of commencing iPod roulette', what, 'shuffle mode, what will be the next'.
'I suspect you know your playlist inside and out Ethan', I state and begin setting the table.
Aware he's strolling back to the fridge, 'perhaps but the point is in which order they shall play', a mutter, he takes from the fridge a stainless steel bowl containing ingredients to make a salad and brings it a large white enamel sink which is in keeping with the traditional style of the kitchen.
My job done, I sit, sip the water and watch him wash cucumber, tomatoes, spring onions and various types of lettuce and endive, to distract from the myriad of questions punching my brain I concentrate on the song, discreetly extract my Blackberry from my handbag, no emails…..missed calls…..nothing.
'Anastasia', his tone low, quiet, he's skilfully peeling the cucumber, 'I appreciate you are anxious but it shall take Christian near on nine hours to arrive in Hillingham, may I suggest you try for now to relax and enjoy a meal'.
'How do you know he's on his way', I blurb, he turns his head and looks at me.
'It is what I would do in his shoes and besides I conversed with Tristan not ten minutes ago', oh God, a startled expression widens my eyes, 'be at ease, Christian, to his credit, did not divulge anything regarding Violet, an urgent business matter was his explanation', I sigh in relief, 'to reiterate, for now try to relax and enjoy a meal'.
A brief smile, he continues rapidly prepping the ingredients, I find it surprising the calming effect he's able to instil despite the great pressure he must be under, 'how do you cope with Vi's condition', one of the burning questions escapes my mouth.
Keeping his back turned, 'suffice to say as best I can, Anastasia Violet is no different from any person, we all have our ups and downs, hers can be in the extreme but on the whole she functions well'.
'But isn't it reckless of you to have Sub Dom sessions with her, after the abuse she suffered and ECT', one of the most disturbing questions pops out.
Turning round he brings the bowl of prepared ingredients to the table, calmly his eyes assess mine, 'although a private matter I shall inform, first comprehend, Violet and I conduct Sub Dom sessions by mutual consensual request. Prior to commencement of a session we converse at length, imperative I ascertain her motives for requesting and she mine, if on the same wavelength it goes ahead, if not then it does not. After a session again at length we converse to ascertain misgivings or misunderstandings and resolve any if applicable. Second, Violet informed she finds sessions beneficial, in her words, "swirly twirly flaming fucking thoughts having a field day in my head take a hike up a mountain, like a retreat or sabbatical Ethan, then when they hike back down they're a lot less flaming and fucking annoying", take from that what you will Anastasia', gosh…..not only does he understand her completely they obviously communicate with each other in depth.
His eyes don't leave mine, 'I concede the aforementioned safeguards were not in place at your abode but my duty was and is to protect her. Strongly I suspected she made mention of one Mr Holt therefore I required the focus to be solely on me and executed my plan rapidly and efficiently', he sighs, 'not successfully as we now know. Perhaps when the facts in their entirety are made known to Christian, he may be forthcoming with regards to his intentions. Now with respect Anastasia I no longer wish to converse further on any of the issues'.
'I understand, let's have a nice meal as you said', I smile truly amazed by his honesty and gallantry.
'If you would be so kind as to finish the salad, I believe a French dressing can be found in the fridge, I must check on the casserole', another brief smile, he strolls to the range, I to the fridge, ears tune into a song the iPod shuffled onto, sudden laughter erupts and boy does it feel good.
'Your amusement Anastasia', he asks, can he not hear it.
Quickly grabbing a bottle of what's obviously homemade dressing, I close the fridge door, 'that song', I can't stop laughing.
Inclining his head, he listens and laughs heartily, 'ah yes, Horse Outside is the song's title, quite satirical, one of Violet's, indeed my love possesses a rather quirky sense of humour'.
Safely parked in a motorway's layby, my sodden clothes got the better of me, between the front seats I clamber into the back of the jeep, rummage in my overnight travel bag and pull out my pink and white stripped flannel pj's, 'I'll look great in these when I get home', I laugh
In total darkness, bar headlights from the sparse cars zooming by and the motorway's very few and far between overhead lights, with difficulty I strip off my wet clinging clothes and underwear. Searching the bag and furtively keeping watch, shit, no underwear to be found, you packed in a hurry Violet…yeah, yeah, yeah…..I know, swiftly I grapple into the pj's, no socks either, fuck, feet too cold to wedge back into soggy trainers, 'oh well…..complete the mad ensemble, drive barefoot...sorted'.
Back in the driver's seat, I start up the jeep, consult terse SatNav lady who tells me I've seven hours still to go, huffing because it seems to me I've been driving for an age, I launch back onto the motorway and drive faster than I normally would.
As you can't go wrong on a motorway with signs everywhere I switch her off, sick of her sour voice anyway, switch on the music system, a radio channel is belting out one of my favourite songs, 'I'm in the bedroom…with tissues and when I know you're outside banging but I won't let you in…..cos it's a hard life with love in the world…and I'm a hard girl...loving me is like chewing on pearls', I warble along to my heart's content.
'Delicious Ethan', a mouthful of tender delicately seasoned venison slid down my throat, 'did you make it', I ask before sipping the equally delicious dark red wine.
'I did indeed', he grins, 'Mrs Beeton personified', I laugh, 'when time affords I cook dishes in quantities and freeze portions'.
'Husbandry in heaven', jokingly I quip a phrase from Macbeth.
'Wise always for the kitchen', he laughs looks out the charming windows, 'the heavens are not thrifty this night', I follow his gaze, the inky black night sky is clear of snow clouds, the stars shine bright, to the far right of a window frame half a bulbous full moon is visible.
Looking back, he's resumed eating, slouched casually yet elegantly in the chair, expression unreadable, I resume eating, the iPod's wafting another song I've never heard before, the melody flows, "the width of a room that can hold so much pleasure inside", the man's hauntingly beautiful voice resonates in my ears, our Red Room of Pain, 'nice song, what's it called', I blurb.
'Nightporter by, in my opinion a much underrated band of the eighties, Japan', he replies blankly, sips his wine.
'One of yours or Vi's', I ask.
'Mine', he murmurs.
'The lyrics are lovely', I express then remember he's seen the room, cheeks flush redder than the wine, sipping it I'm unable to meet his eyes.
'I concur lovely indeed', a tone with no trace of sexual innuendo or mockery, "why would there be Ana...get a hold of yourself", the harpy shouts, 'Anastasia I shall adjust the iPod if this particular track discomforts'.
Glancing at my BlackBerry's screen, 'no it's fine', I reply disillusioned, saddened there are no emails or missed calls from Christian, the harpy retreats behind her couch expression beyond anxious.
'Anastasia', his silky quiet voice draws my attention, 'I comprehend your concern, conclude your meal I shall make ready a driver', he gets up from the table, idiotically I laugh, the iPod shuffled onto a Christmas song, surreal and ridiculous, 'roulette indeed, good grief', he laughs.
'Don't please, the driver I mean', I can't face yet leaving the warmth for the inevitable cold which eight hours or so will bring, 'the song yes', I add successfully holding back tears.
'Very well', he strolls to the docked iPod, his back turned I down the remaining wine in my glass in a gulp, 'what say you to Vivaldi's Spring, more apt, or do you care to hear something else', he asks turns his head and smiles, oh God...that beguiling smile, thankfully after the deluge my inner goddess is washed up on a desert island where she'll stay.
'No to Vivaldi, I'm not a fan, pick something yourself Ethan', I smile in return and continue eating.
'Ummmm...what to choose', he murmurs, 'ah, yes, Bolero by Ravel, this piece affords memories', oh...of what, it begins, he saunters back to the table, sits, grins and refills both glasses.
Inwardly I scoff and snort at my inner goddess slinking across golden sands in time to the music like Cleopatra in search of Mark Antony, 'what memories', out of sheer nosiness I ask.
'My second governess, a woman with an obsession for bridge and the clarinet, under her tutelage I mastered both, this', he waves his hand indicating what we're listening to, 'her favourite piece. Peculiarly she had a repugnance to the name Ethan, to this day I cannot fathom why, she always addressed by my second, Laurence, or Laurie if mood jovial'.
'Why didn't your parents just tell her to stop', I interrupt in a giggle, Laurie, a flash of emotion sparks in his eyes, sadness, what, oh God, I think I put my foot in it.
'The woman was my second governess hired by my Uncle not my parents who alas were deceased at that time', he replies blankly.
'I'm so sorry Ethan', I blither and resist the urge to hold his hand that's wrapped round his glass to offer sympathy and comfort.
'No apology required Anastasia', a low murmur, he looks at the plate before me, nearly scraped clean so too is the side plate, only remnants of the light delicious salad remain, 'you were hungry', a sudden smile, 'have you room for dessert'?
'Yes', I smile rationalizing by staying a while longer I can be of comfort, "you don't want to face what's coming Ana", the harpy snivels, I nudge the couch with my knee jamming her against a wall.
He laughs expression recognition, 'what', I ask.
'My Mrs Beeton skills regarding desserts are none existent therefore rather than summon staff all I can offer is a tub of Häagen Dazs or fruit', whoa, what Christian said on our flight back to Seattle from England flies through my mind, "understandable to a degree, born into the Aristocracy and the British stiff upper lip old boy", he's not arrogant, within the constraints of his upbringing and position he's as down to earth as the next person.
'If his Lordship allows', I grin, his eyebrow arches, expression mirth, 'a melding of the two, fruit and ice cream, I'll do the honours'.
'Thank you Anastasia, appreciated', he replies in a tone of sincerity and nods with a warm smile.
As I go about the kitchen with very little grace and lot of searching in cupboards for utensils and ingredients, we chat, comfortably about our childhoods, life in general. Coming across a congested memo board of photos, a calendar with dates for this month January circled in red, numerous lists, a handwritten note in a childlike scribble catches my eye, "Rochester, for the last time before I lose my larynx, stop leaving your unmentionables and wet towels on the bathroom floor. I pick them up before our staff are subjected, what next, loo lid left up, toothpaste tube squeezed from the middle not the bottom. You're only here weekends and cause domestic ructions, love you btw, Vi ".
Laughing, an insight into their true lives, 'one of many dotted around Hillingham Hall', he laughs, I look at him, he's holding his hands up in acquiesce, 'I do have failings, allow me to assist in completion of dessert'.
He did, a different wine accompanying my very well put together dessert of hulled strawberries, peeled pear chunks, a spattering of ruby red pomegranate seeds on top of a dollop of vanilla ice cream, is delicious.
'You've told me so much about yourself Ethan outside of what I know', I murmur, place the spoon on the table next to my empty bowl, 'I didn't expect that', I add then wipe my mouth with the napkin.
'Look to me Anastasia', softly he murmurs, I do and stare into dark brown flickering eyes, 'thank you'.
'For what', I ask in surprise.
'For the solace and kinship your company afforded this night', a gentle reply, 'time now for you to proceed to Manor house'.
Horrible cold within grips, 'can I stay a while longer', blurts.
Regarding me closely, 'if you wish', an understanding smile, 'we shall keep track of time, would you object to filling the time by watching a film in the den yonder', he points to a door on the far right of the kitchen and suppresses laughter, 'an opportunity to strike the last one off the to watch list, creator of said list, Violet'.
Warmth overriding cold, 'I don't mind, what is it, White Chicks, Shawshank Redemption', I giggle.
In laughter he shakes his head, 'no, those were last month, a film entitled Dogma, reliably informed by Violet a tale of renegade angels and Alanis Morissette as God is only the bees knees she said'.