After a nauseating three hours on the road, plagued with trafffic jams and a bad smell that constantly followed them, Cal and Isabella arrived at the Hockley Hamptons home. The building was much less intimidating than their New York residence and, while still imposing in it's size, gave off a more welcoming feeling that even the six foot tall brick wall surrounding the estate couldn't lessen. The vast garden was filled with many varieties of flowers that Isabella had never seen outside of that estate. Everything seemed to be in bloom, even the house itself was adorned with pink flowers that crept up the walls and drainpipes and danced in the gentle wind. Added to the beaming sun that shone overhead, the house just seemed even more beautiful to Isabella. She much preferred this house to the others that the Hockleys owned across America and loved the infrequent occasions that they had to stay there. Nothing beat those calm surroudings. The only thing that made them intolerable were the hoards of other rich stiffs who seemed to enjoy having loud, irritating parties near by at this time of year.
The car pulled up just a few feet away from the front door, where the house-keeping staff waited. They were ready to do almost everything for the Hockleys and the moment the car stopped, they raced towards the vehicle and opened doors, grabbed the suitcases and announced 'Hello Mr Hockley' in unison, followed by 'Hello Miss Hockley.'
"Hello, Mr Hockley," The eldest man said. Preston had been the family's butler for longer than he himself could remember. He had helped to raise Cal as a child and worked both in Pittsburgh and the Hamptons when the occasion called for him. The Hockleys treated him as much like a member of the family as they could treat a man who waited on them beck and call. He kept his few strands of silver hair neat upon his liver-spotted head and was seldom seen looking unhappy. Cal shook his hand and they both exhanged smiles.
"Good to see you again Preston." Cal replied as the maids and helpers dragged away their bags.
"And Miss Hockley, it's been a long time since you graced us with your presence." Preston grinned while giving Isabella a friendly hug.
"Hello Preston. I'm so happy to be back."
"Preston, if you please. We'd like to keep our visit here quiet. No parties or any of that trash, so please don't tell any of the locals we are here." Cal asked.
"You have my word, sir." Preston promised. "Would you like us to prepare luncheon now or later?"
"I think we'll wait for Jocelyn to arrive. She should be here in a couple of hours but who knows for sure? Right now, I just want to rest. The drive was tiring."
"Very good, sir." Preston took a small bow and headed back inside. Isabella wiped her bleary eyes and decided to dive straight into enjoying her vacation.
One of the special facilities that was included in the Hockley's Hamptons home was the addition of a private swimming pool. The patio area behind the house was even more extravagent than the front yard and contained the full spectrum of flowers, with different breeds and colours. The crowning glory was the vast pool placed in the dead centre of the stone patio. Apparently the pool was the same size as the one that had been used at the 1904 Olympic Games in Missouri but Isabella had never measured. All she saw when she looked at that pool was death trap.
For some inexplicable reason, she had always been afraid of water. She could cope fine with small amounts but when it came to the home swimming pool or the open ocean, she froze and panicked. She had tried some self diagnosis into why she felt this way about something so normal but only came to the simple conclusion that is was a question of her inability to swim. She hadn't learnt how to swim because she cried every time she was forced near the edge of the pool. The entire issue was a vicious circle for Isabella so she avoided the pool completely. Unfortunately, at the time of day they had arrived in the Hamptons, the sun was directed so that it shone towards the patio area. In need of some sunshine, she hesitantly headed towards the patio. With a book in hand and an oversized blue sun-hat on her head, she cautiously shuffled outside, already filled with nerves.
Avoiding the edge of the pool like wildfire, Isabella almost stepped backwards into the decorative hedges outlining the patio. She wondered why she was even bothering to come outside when she felt so terrified but the lure of the sunshine and blissful quiet was too much to ignore. After all the parties and headache inducing noise of the big city, she was willing to tolerate her biggest fear, if only for a few moments. Then, like a blast of bad luck, the wind let out a powerful burst and carried off her hat onto the surface of the water. Isabella sighed with a mixture of irritation and an underlying sense that this was all a huge joke for somebody out there.
The hat floated atop the water, a circular object that caused ripples across the formerly peaceful pool. It was an expensive hat, something her father had bought her the last time they had come to the Hamptons, so she couldn't just leave it there. None of the house-keeping staff seemed to be around. Why was there never anybody available when you needed them, Isabella wondered. She decided if no-one else was there, she might as well do it herself. The basic idea of self sufficiency was never one Isabella needed to be taught. As a Hockley, she would always have somebody on hand willing to do anything for her. While she tried as often as possible to be independant, it was hard to not take advantage of the 'facilities.' Looking around the patio area, her eyes caught a glimpse of the short poled net the gardener used to look after the koi in the ornamental pond. It wasn't lengthy enough to reach the very centre but it would do. She grabbed the bottom as firmly as she could, knelt on the slightly soggy pool-side and cautiously reached over. As she hovered above the water, the ends of her hair dipped into the pool and created more ripples. She could just reach the brim of her hat and no more with the net. Another couple of inches and she could bring it back. Holding her breath, she tried to push herself a little more forward, one hand around the net handle, the other digging it's fingers into the lip around the pool edge. Unfortunately, just as she captured the hat in the netting, her fingers gave way and she plunged head first into the water.
At first, she just felt numb. The water was so chilly, she couldn't feel anything until she had been submerged for a few seconds. Then, once the full extent of the situation set in, she frantically tried to fight her way back to the surface. She could just reach the open air and tried to take a breath but she felt like some invisible force was pulling her back down. Everything slowed down under water, her movements registered as quick in her mind but she couldn't get past the force of the water. It literally overpowered her, emphasising her former paranoia. Even though it was simply a swimming pool, it felt like the entire Atlantic Ocean to Isabella. Nothing could possibly match this terror. How long had she been under for? She flailed up and down wildly, trying to break the surface again. Her clothes weighed her down even more. She couldn't hold her breath any more, the pressure was becoming too much but she knew she absolutely must not release it. However, her body did not comply with that wish and, instinctively, she opened her mouth allowing water to flood into her lungs. In what she thought was her final moments, Isabella thought of her dreams. The dark water was coming back to get her...
Another splash entered the pool, sounding more like a rumble in Isabella's ears. She didn't want to open her eyes, her body was in pain enough as it was. Something curled itself around her body and lifted her upwards. As she broke the surface, she felt nothing but relief and graditude for whoever it was that was currently attached to her back. She spluttered, water flying from her lips as she tried to catch her breath. The figure lifted her onto the pool side and jumped up next to her. She lay on the ground, feeling the heat of the sun brush her soaking skin. Finally opening her eyes, the figure's face was shrouded in the shadows, leaving only his silhouette.
"What the hell was you doing in the pool?" He asked, angrily. "Who told you you could go in there?"
Isabella was bemused. She tried to sit up but was exhausted. "Er, I..."
"Are you stupid or sumat?" He interrupted.
"I beg your pardon?" She replied, forcing herself to sit up. His face became clear to her, dripping wet from every possible place. Chestnut coloured hair was plastered to his head, covering the top half of his eyes. She could still see that his eyes were an unusually bright shade of green, more suited to a painting than real life. He was older than her, but not so old that it had affected his appearance, she guessed early thirties. For a split second, she wondered if his square jawed face and sun-kissed skin would look more handsome if he would stop scowling at her, then she remembered she was mad at him.
"You can't just go jumpin' into other people's pools whenever you want. I should report you to Mr Hockley or Preston, you'll get fired." He continued, wiping away a stream of water from his cheek.
"Who the hell are you?" She exclaimed. It was unbelievable that this man was angry at her for alomst drowning. She stood up and stormed away, shaking water from her own arms like a dog dries it's body.
"Hey! You can't go inside soaking wet!" The man continued to shout as she entered the building. "Oh, you are so fired!" He followed her inside, creating puddles on the cream marble floor as he walked. He grabbed Isabella's arm and pulled her back to face him. "I'm talkin' to you!"
"I live here you imbicile!" She screamed. Her near death experience and the fisaco that had followed had left her at her wits end. Finally, the man stood silent, staring at her with disbelief, as if she'd told a joke. Luckily, Preston entered the hall and stood in between the pair.
"Miss Hockley, what on earth happened?" He asked, putting a caring hand on her shoulder. "And Darcy, son. Are you both okay?"
"I'm fine Preston, just...accident with the pool." Isabella said, restraining the urge to scream at the man. Darcy was considering handing in his notice of resignation on the spot! He couldn't help but blush a little with shame. After all, he had just called his boss' only daughter stupid. How was he to know that the girl was Miss Hockley? He had never seen her before in the entire time he had been employed in the Hamptons. Plus she was not how he had imagined a wealthy socialite's daughter would look. Her clothing was very similar to his own and she had the appearance of one of the staff, the reason he had assumed she was one. She wasn't attractive, which sounded so cruel in his head but it was the truth. True, she did had beautiful eyes, rosy cheeks and hair so long and soft-looking that they were impossible to ignore. Also, her figure, accentuated by her sticking wet clothes so out of fashion with today's love of the boyish frame made her refreshingly healthy-looking. But her facial features seemed too out of proportion. Her top lip was non-existant and the bump in her nose drew attention away from the positives of her appearance. On second evaluation, Miss Hockley was a unique beauty, not completely gorgeous, but alluring in some way. But if looks could kill, he would be in the morgue soon!
"I'm sorry Miss Hockley," He stammered. "If I had known who you were, I wouldn't..."
"Have called me stupid." Isabella finished. "Well, now you know better. I'm obliged to thank you for saving my life, but if you ever say a wrong word out of place again, you'll be out of here." With that, she stormed upstairs to dry off and scream into her pillow in frustration. Darcy stayed on the spot, creating his own pool of water.
"I think you should go off and change clothes," Preston suggested. Darcy nodded obediantly and headed back to servant's quarters. He was a competent and respectful servant but useless regarding social skills with people. It was mostly his father's doing that had gotten him work for such a prestigious family, but he knew he would never become as trusted by the Hockleys as Preston was. His encounter with Miss Hockley was just one example of his inability to hold a proper conversation without insulting somebody. He was just thankful it didn't cost him his job. Hopefully he wouldn't find himself alone with her again for the duration of her stay.
While his daughter recovered from her near death experience, Cal was oblivious to her accident and sat in the front drive, alone with only his thoughts for company. He had instructed nobody to disturb him unless absolutely necessary. As soon as Jocelyn arrived, no doubt his peace would be shattered. He was already contemplating ways to avoid her this vacation. Much like a strong wine, Jocelyn was best taken in moderation. Something which is difficult to accomplish when you are married to them. They both knew that their union was not formed out of love and it suited them perfectly. But Jocelyn did insist on such public displays of their marriage, whether it was at social gatherings, parties or other absurd occasions. At least now, in the private seclusion of their own home, they could be honest about what was really a sham.
As if by magic, a car arrived on the driveway. The Rutherford crest proudly adorned the bonnet and doors of the vehicle. The driver scrambled out and opened the door for Jocelyn, who stepped out wearing what could only be described as a dead ostrich on her head. Cal guessed that her shopping trip had been fruitful. She moved towards him and quickly gave him a kiss, although her hat almost knocked his head backwards.
"Lovely hat," Cal said, not entirely true. It was horribly over-the-top but most of Jocelyn's clothes were. The theory of understatement did not sit well with Jocelyn. "I was wondering what took you so long."
"I'm sorry I'm late but I got preoccupied. You will never guess who I ran into today." She said enthusiastically as her driver struggled to carry all her bags from the car trunk. Cal was about to reply but Jocelyn continued for him. "Glen Moody!"
Cal smiled blankly, having no idea who this Glen Moody was.
"Oh you know who he is. He's the film producer. Well, he was in Macy's buying something for someone, oh I forgot who. Anyway, we got talking and he told me that he's throwing a party tonight right here in the Hamptons and he invited us. So of course I said yes."
"What?"
"Well we don't have to go now. The party starts at 8pm and we're close to his beach-house so we won't have to leave until at least 7:30."
"You know I don't want to go to any parties Jocelyn. I specifically told you that this would be a quiet vacation. We've been to enough parties recently to keep us going for years!" Cal sneered. After only 30 seconds, Jocelyn was already annoying him. "We're not going."
"Don't be a spoilsport Cal." Jocelyn replied, pouting slightly with her over-rouged lips.
"No!" He suddenly screamed, his echo following. "Enough is enough. I am sich of these stupid parties. I have more important things to do with my life than crawl around on the ground kissing other people's arses."
"Oh, that's funny. I thought the Hockleys had been doing that for years." Jocelyn cruelly replied, feeling very proud of herself. "Oh, don't start that nonsense Cal, I know how much you begged my father for those business deals. He's made the Hockley Industries richer than they already were and you know it. It's amazing what a few words to my father can do for a business."
"Are you threatening me?" Cal asked, forcing his face inches from Jocelyn's.
"I'm just saying. I've seen it happen before." She innocently remarked, removing her hat. "We're good together Cal. I don't complain about your incessant business talk or moaning and you ignore my flaws. Not many women would. And I keep your secrets." A pause followed, broken only by the rustling leaves in the wind. "Don't cross me Caledon."
"I am not going to be intimidated by a woman making empty threats." Cal whispered.
"They aren't empty. How would Isabella view her dear father if she knew a few home truths?"
Cal's eyes widened. Jocelyn was right, she knew more about him than anyone else and could cause his downfall in one sentence. The business was his life but his daughter was his heart and soul. If she knew the truth then his life would be destroyed. He shook his head weakly.
"So, you'll be ready by 7?" Jocelyn asked. Cal could do nothing but nod. "Wonderful, darling. I'll be upstairs trying on my new dress." She took Cal's face in her thin hands and kissed his lips the way a true wife embraces her husband. It was completely forced and messy but Jocelyn had the control of the thing and liked it. She walked off inside, leaving a shell-shocked Cal standing outside. Jocelyn was in control of too much for him to refuse her. Before his daughter had arrived, he was a different person. Behaviour like Jocelyn's would not have been tolerated and would have resulted in a violent act. While today, he still had bursts of anger, he was a much more mellow man, more willing to go with the flow of life. Now, he was weaker. He was trapped, unable to live his own life for utter fear of his utopian dream being killed.