Wearing one of the dresses she had hastily packed into her suitcase prior to leaving, Isabella stood in the hallway with her father, Jocelyn and the housekeeping staff, patiently waiting for her grandparents to arrive. It was one of the most uncomfortable pieces of clothing she owned, even by her own dress hating standards. The incredibly thin jewelled straps embedded themselves into her shoulders. It took all of her years of lady-like practice not to rearrange her underwear with her fingers! She surveyed the seemingly never-ending row of servants trying to find Darcy. He must have been serving his punishment somewhere else in the house, or down collecting manure in the horse shack. She hoped that he was okay. For no real understandable reason, Isabella had grown quite fond of Darcy Preston, despite their differences in age and status. It was a welcome change to be associated with someone who honestly did not care about her family name or the money that came along with it. She desperately needed to talk to her father. The revelation that she did not even know the name of the woman who gave birth to her was pressing in her thoughts and she needed the matter to be resolved as soon as possible.
Cal stood next to her, trying to hide his less than calm demeanour. Tonight had to go perfectly or the entire Hockley business could be broken down in a matter of moments. Even worse, if his father's fondness for drink took centre stage as it had done more and more over the months, Nathan could yet again open his growling mouth and spill something foul. Nathan's life had become an insect like state. He had transformed from a respectable and cold gentleman into a slurring, incompotent mess. For the greater good, and his own selfish desires, Cal knew he needed his father's signature on the forms that sat inside his briefcase. The Hockely family name would conitune, but in the more controversial form of father and daughter.
Jocelyn revelled in the thought of the impending take-over. While being the wife of an heir had it's advantages in the social scene of New York, his promotion would certainly lead to a step up the sociality ladder. Coupled with her own family name, Jocelyn could easily become the Queen of Manhattan. The even better prospect of becoming a business partner was also in her mind. She would have the inevitable months of learning the trade, all of which meant little to her, but then her power would be incomprehensible. Somehow she doubted Cal would be ecstatic at this prospect, but he could hardly refuse a woman with such knowledge of his life.
"Father," Isabella whispered, looking up at his trembling bottom lip. He directed his eyes towards her own. "I need to ask you something."
"We'll talk tomorrow darling." He replied. "It isn't the best time now.!
"It'll only take a moment. What was my mother's first name?"
Cal turned his head, a perplexed look twisted in his face. Now was not the moment for Isabella to realise that fourteen years of sketchy details about her childhood were unsubstantial. He took great care to avoid the subject altogether but not much regarding the actual 'information' he allowed to be discussed. How something as silly as the phantom mother's name had never come up before was a baffling blessing.
"What?" He exclaimed, not knowing what else to say.
"I don't know my mother's name. I don't recall you ever telling me it and I'm confused. It's such a silly thing, but I really want to know."
Cal didn't know what to say. He couldn't think of a single name that seemed to fit the image of his supposed deceased wife. Truth be told, he couldn't remember how he had described her to Isabella. Only a handful of women had made an impact on his life, and none of them ever received the adoration he gave his daughter. One had come close, she had rejected him and he never forgot that stabbing feeling. If Isabella rejected him then life was over. He didn't want to be silent any longer, it seemed suspicious, so he said the only name he could think of.
"Rose," He said. "Her name was Rose."
"That's a pretty name." Isabella simply replied, her curiosity satisfied in a matter of seconds. Immediately after the name left Cal's lips, he wished he hadn't picked that name. The name of the one woman who broke his heart was not the right choice for his child's mother, yet it seemd to revert her back to silence which was a relief.
The familiar hum of the Hockley car increased in volume as it slowed down on the pebbles of the driveway. Both Isabella and Cal took a deep breath, filling their lungs in the hope that it would calm their shaking hands, while Jocelyn kept her steely-cold smile frozen on her face. Preston and anoher servant grabbed the pewter handles and pulled open the doors with a grunt. The car's unnaturally bright headlights created a silhouette around the pair, leaving them with the appearance of two rather unfortunate deers on a midnight road. The lights disappeared in a blink and left Nathan and Lucille standing in the doorway, both grinning happily. Cal doubted that his father's apparent joy was unrelated to intoxication. Like the loyal son he was supposed to be, Cal hugged his father, smelling the whiskey from the moment of contact, then did the same with his thankfully sober mother. Lucille quickly kissed Jocelyn's over-rouged cheeks then moved towards Isabella with a much more welcoming hug. The pair enjoyed each-ther's company immensly. Lucille was like any other woman her age and doted on her grand-daughter. Having had no daughter of her own, she compensated for those missing years by spoiling Isabella. She really was one of the best things that could have happened to Cal. It was a shame that Nathan was less than enthusiatic regarding the matter himself.
"Cal! Cal, Cal, Caledon James Hockley!" Nathan bellowed. The stench of his breath hit Cal's face like a sudden gust of wind. "Good to see you son. Sorry to come up on such short notice."
"I was the one that invited you father." Cal reminded him. It would have been surprising if the man could remember the previous day's events, the state he was in was disgusting. His thinning hair was a mess that had sloppily been arranged into a barely presentable style, while his clothes were creased and stained with some sort of liquid. He didn't want to get too close to check but Nathan's eyes had a stained border of yellow around the iris. Cal bore more than a passing resemblance to his father and he shuddered at the thought of one day turning into this man. "But it's still good to see you."
"Yes, well couldn't let you stay in my house without a quick visit." Nathan continued, shuffling towards Jocelyn. "And it's good to see you too gorgeous!" He embraced Jocelyn with a stifling hug, who kept a gracious smile on her face despite her disgust.
"Isabella," Nathan said, turning to the teenager who fumbled with her dress strap. "The Hockley heir." Cal did not approve of the way his father practically spat out the words and would discuss it with him later.
"Hello grandpa." Isabella smiled. Nathan ignored her greeting and made his way into the dining room. Lucille gave Isabella another hug and they followed Nathan together, Cal and Jocelyn behind them. Cal knew it would take a lot of coffee to sober up his father long enough to sign the papers. It promised to be a long night.
Dinner was everything Cal thought it would be and even more. He had prepared for Nathan's arrival by locking up all the alcohol he knew Nathan kept in the house but he had noy expected the old man to bring his own hip flask which he subsequently drank from all night without any consideration for others. The flask seemed to be bottomless, or Nathan was so drunk he didn't realise it was empty. Neither option was surprising to Cal. Dinner had been served earlier much to Nathan's dismay who decided to insult every servant who approached him. He enjoyed having such immunity, nobody dared to cross him because he could ruin their lives in one word. Cal suffered with those same thoughts, hoping Cal would keep his mouth shut about Isabella. He kept the same fears over Jocelyn too, who seemed to be the only sober person enjoying herself. He shuddered to think what passed through her mind, knowing only that it wouldn't be pleasant. Isabella kept to herself, only joining in with the conversation when somebody addressed her. She preferred to think about her mother. Armed with a name - the beautiful sounding Rose Hockley - she tried to imagine what she was like. Somehow, she saw a woman who looked like she did but much more radiant. It was a comforting idea, one that made her feel surprisingly content. Meanwhile, Darcy still hadn't appeared and, while she cared for his well-being, her sudden interest in him was a little unsettling. She tried to appear interested in her grandfather's conversation but his indecipherable mumblings made it impossible. Instead, she beckoned Preston over from his statue-like position next to the serving cart, poised to serve. He brought over a wine bottle - Isabella was allowed a rare glass every now and then, although she never drank it.
"Would you like a glass Miss Hockley?" Preston asked.
"No thank you Preston." She whispered back. Preston leaned in closer to her face to hear better. "I actually wanted to ask you where Darcy is."
"He is in the horse shack, shovelling piles of manure as his punishment."
"I wanted to ask you about that too. I really don't think it's fair that Darcy was punished. It was all my fault really, I distracted him from his work and it was me that he spent the day with. I didn't mean for Darcy to be punished for my actions." Isabella whispered, tripping over her words slightly. She pondered for a moment why she was so eager to stand up for Darcy but the only possible answer didn't seem plausible.
"It's very noble of you to say so Miss Hockley. But with all due respect, Darcy had to be punished. No offence meant but my son is perfectly capable of deciding his own actions. He chose not to attend to his duties and had to be shown the consequences of doing so. Plus he is at an advantage with the other staff. Wouldn't it seem unfair to the other servants if the son of the head butler was not disciplined?"
"Oh..." Isabella sighed. She knew he was right, so nodded.
"Don't worry, Darcy has cleaned out those shacks so many times that he's used to it." Preston smiled and straightened his back. Jocelyn, ever the inquisitive one, took a less than polite interest in Isabella's queries.
"What were the pair of you gossiping about?" She asked, making sure everyone in the room heard her. Isabella didn't scowl at her step-mother but her expression came danderously close to forming one.
"Nothing of your concern."
"Oh don't be shy Isabella. Preston, what were you talking about?" Jocelyn addressed the butler. He couldn't not reply.
"Miss Hockley was asking about my son, Mrs Hockley." Preston replied.
"Ah yes, the lovely Darcy. I saw him take you away earlier Isabella. What did you both get up to? You were away for hours." It was at this point that Cal took notice.
"You did what?" He exclaimed. He did not want to contemplate the image of his daughter, still a little girl in his eyes, running off with a man twice her age doing god knows what. "What did you do together?" He continued. His tone was strong and demanded answers.
"Father, it wasn't anything bad." Isabella tried to reassure her father. "Darcy took me to see his horse then we went riding to the beach together. We had a lovely, peaceful time and I don't want the memory of it spoiled by this pointless investigation."
"Well, looks like the tyke is growing up!" Nathan interrupted, taking another long swig from his hipflask. "I never would have imagined her being so chatty and grown up when she was a bushy haired kid. Moany little bitch she was too."
The room froze. Even the servants stopped what they were doing. Isabella didn't know what to do or where to look. Her grandfather had slowly turned into a monster through her lifetime with the help of alcohol. When she was a child, he used to sit her on his knee and bounce her up and down over and over until they both collapsed with laughter. Looking at the yellow faced man who sat in front of her now, it was hard to believe they were both the same person.
Cal couldn't take it anymore. His father had outstepped the boundaries. He was going to force him to sign those forms now then cut off all ties from him. While his own child was not his by blood, he cared for Isabella more than Nathan ever did for him. While Nathan Hockley was drunk, he wasn't fit to look after anything, be that a business of a family. Cal stood up and moved towards Nathan, placing his hand heavily onto his shoulder.
"Father, now I think it would be best for us to go upstairs and discuss the business arrangements." He said sternly, trying to remain calm. All he wanted to do was flip over that immense antique table - even though his body could never manage that - and release all his bottled up wrath at Nathan. He didn't deserve to be associated with the name Hockley, he brought too much shame to it. Nathan stood up, his smile a sign of how little he care for other's feelings. Cal lead the way out of the room, making a detour past Isabella to give her a reassuring hug before he left.
Nathan collapsed onto the leather couch in the drawing room. Cal wasn't sure how conscious he was, he seemed close ro falling alseep, but as long as he could hold a pen in his hand, he didn't care. He readied the documents that would officially name him as the president of Hockley Industries. Finally, all his aspirations and hopes for the future could be put into action without any meddling from his father or anybody else. The term 'family business' would re-apply to the Hockley Industries once more.
"Well, everything's ready father." Cal said. "If you'll just sign these forms then..." How do you end that sentence, he thought. 'Then I never want to see you again?' 'Then you need to leave our lives and die in some bar away from us all?' His sense of decency was the only thing that restrained his darker side. It was the only thing that kept him sane at the best of times, as well as his little girl. Nathan staggered over to the table, steadying himself against Cal as he took the pen in his shaking hand and signed his illegible signature on the dotted lines.
"Ya know, I'm gonna miss being head of it all." Nathan said as he finished signing the first page. Cal showed him the second one and he continued singing. "It's like my second child, I've spent so long looking after it and now it's out of my hands. I spent more time at work than I did with you and your mom."
"I know." Cal rolled his eyes. He didn't need his less than happy childhood dragged into an already complicated equation. He turned to the final page. He had already signed the documents earlier.
"I'm getting too old for this shit now. Too bored. It isn't the same thing I started with anymore. I can't bear to sit in those board meetings now. But you'll do fine, you've always been good at what you do, even when you were a spoilt playboy brat." With a flick of the fountain pen, Nathan finished signing and tossed the pen onto the table. "Congratulations Cal." He held out a sweaty hand which Cal reluctantly shook. "So, what's next for Hockley Industries?"
"I don't think now is the best time to discuss this." Cal mumbled weakly. Now the moment had finally arrived, he din't know how to react. Maybe he should wait until morning to kick Nathan out of his life. But he also wanted to punish him for ridiculing his daughter, the most important thing on this world. "But I do want an apology for what you said about Isabella."
"What? What did I do?"
"Oh don't act like the innocent one father. You know exactly what you said about her. You called her a bitch."
"Oh pish, it was just a joke. I call you a moody bastard all the time and I don't hear you complaining." Nathan laughed, a sickening bellow that filled the room and Cal's ears. "You need to lighten up. You'll fit right in with those stiff necked board members. So, now that you're the head, who are you gonna hire as your right hand man?"
Cal stiffened. While Isabella was still too young, he fully intended to give her the position the moment she turned eighteen. People would gossip about favouritism, but he didn't care. Isabella was more than compotent enough to be a business-woman and deserved the chance to show the world that. Nathan would no doubt disapprove but he couldn't do anything about it now. Part of him would take great delight in taunting the old man.
"I'm going to bring Isabella in as a board member when she becomes of age." He announced, taking the documents in his hands and holding them close to his chest protectively. Nathan's reaction was just how Cal imagined it, only with more shaking. "She's a wonderfully smart young woman and has a good head for business. She often helps me with transactions and knows more about the industry than I did at her age. She will keep the family name running."
"You must be joking! You can't let that girl near the business!" Nathan spluttered. His hands shook so much that he clasped them together to subside it. "She's too young."
"I was her age when I began working for you."
"Things were different then, you can't let a girl work with you."
"How can you be so sexist about this situation? Isabella is much better than I was at her age, she needs a challenging situation for her life. I don't want to see her wasted in some stupid socialite marriage until she dies."
"God Cal, you've softened up in your old age." Nathan moved around the room, swaying back and forth with each step. "Maybe you should go back to being a skirt-chasing brute without that girl to ruin your life."
"How dare you talk about my daughter like that!" Cal growled, his voice getting louder. He kept it quiet enough so that Isabella would not hear it in the dining room directly below them. Certain things needed to stay controlled.
"She isn't even your real daughter! You picked her up from a dirty floor to save your own skin and don't you deny it! I still can't figure out how she managed to wriggle her way into our life. She ruined it!"
"You ruined our lives! You can't stay sober long enough to run a business, let alone be a real father! Isabella loves me more than I ever cared for you." Cal's anger was seeping through to the surface. It was beginning to get out of his reach and he didn't like the lack of control, but the exhilaration of letting Nathan know how he felt was better than he ever thought it would be. "You were a terrible father."
"You are too." Nathan sneered. "You aren't even a real father. Yeah, I said it. Think about it, you were going to die. You didn't want that, oh no, you had so much to give to the world. That whore Rose had run off without you and you were all alone. But that girl, some Irish bastard that wouldn't stop crying, she appears in front of you and you take that advantage. Her parents could have been anywhere, they might have been looking for her. Right now, if you hadn't stolen her, abducted her, she could be with her real family! But you were so selfish and took her for your own good. Now you're her 'father.' Well, you wish you were." Nathan pushed his face an inch away from Cal's, breathing that foul smell into his son's mouth. "Kid yourself all you like, but she ain't yours. She never was. But I'm the only one who seems to actually notice this. That bitch is nothing to me."
"GET OUT!" Cal screamed, pushing Nathan down to the ground with the documents still in hand, only a little more wrinkled. He looked so feeble lying there, crumpled suit and discoloured skin. He quickly picked himself up and headed towards the door. "I don't want you in my life anymore. Get out of my sight and stay away from my daughter."
Nathan left without a reply and Cal didn't move until he heard the slam of the main door and the revving noise of the car engine. He then fell onto the sofa and resisted the urge to scream. Things felt so different now. He didn't regret getting rid of Nathan but the knowledge that he despised Isabella and his little monologue brought in a few home truths. He never thought about it extensively before but his father was completely right for once in his life. Isabella didn't enter his life as the darling daughter he saw her as now. She was a tool, a means to an end. The red-headed girl with raggy clothes wasn't his daughter, she was his safety net. He had intended to give her away as soon as they reached shore, how was he supposed to know at the time that he would end up to hopelessly adore her? He was only human.
It hurt. She deserved so much more than any 3rd class family could have given her and he'd used that as an excuse for so many years. He could give her anything she ever desired, she wouldn't have had that with a group of Irish immigrants. Yet everybody deserved to be with their family. Had Cal robbed her of that privilege to save his own skin? He truly was a selfish being. He was so selfish that even this revelation about his own nature would never convince him to tell Isabella the truth. She deserved a real father - he was her real father, no matter what the biology. She was his. He wouldn't let her go as long as he lived, even if he had to push everybody else away. Isabella would receive everything she ever wanted - except the truth.