Not wanting to leave Lucille alone after such an outburst from her grandfather, Isabella stayed awake with her grandmother in the dining room until some time after three in the morning. The loyal servants stayed with them in case of needed assistance, yet couldn't hide their drooping eye lids or slumping bodies. Lucille hoped that Nathan would come back and apologise, no matter how unlikely that was. Maybe it was just best for him to sober up, although truthfully he hadn't been without some amount of alcohol in his body for quite some time now. He almost always came to bed reeking of stale whisky which radiated from his breath onto Lucille's face. It was obvious to even herself, but still hard for a woman of her age to accept that her marriage was over. Of course, she wouldn't divorce the man. What was the point when she had built her whole life into the Hockley estate? She consoled herself with the knowledge that Isabella was one positive aspect of her life, even if she occured from less than conventional means.
Ever the loyal child, Isabella made sure that her grandmother was comfortable and comforted until the early hours. She did not want to know what was being discussed between her father and the woman she grudgingly called step-mother. One family fight was enough for the night, if not forever. Jocelyn was planning something, Isabella just knew it in her gut. While she constantly looked conceited and conniving, tonight she had an especially suspicious glint in her eye. Her father may have been a lamb heading to the slaughterhouse, something Isabella shuddered to think about, but she was not going to fall into Jocelyn's claws. Finally, after several hours of mindless conversation, Lucille stood up, uneasy on her tired feet, and embraced Isabella in a stifling hug.
"Sorry to have kept you up darling." Lucille apologised, a heavy burden in her voice. She eventually released Isabella from her withered arms and let her breathe. "I think it's time for us both to go to bed."
Isabella smiled wearily, desperate to get out of her exceedingly uncomfortable dress. Overall, the day was a mixture of pleasant surprises and pure relative torture. Once she succumed to sleep, everything could stop for a few hours and there would be peace.
"Good night, grandma," She said, the last word disappearing with an oncoming yawn. They parted ways, Lucille wasn't quite ready to go to bed alone. Usually she welcomed the peace but she preferred to remain ignorant to her bountiful problems. Instead she dismissed the servants, who gratefully bowed and trotted off to their quarters, and stood by the window waiting for something, anything.
Isabella walked past her father's study and saw Jocelyn alone. She looked too wrapped up in something mysterious she held in her hand, and Isabella was in no mood to disturb her and give her the routine 'goodnight' hug. Instead, she continued past the door towards her own room. Cal must have been in his own room, the place he slept when he wished to be separated from unfavourable sorts, one woman's name came to mind. By the look Isabella saw on her step-mother's face, she deducted that words had been said and she had come out on top. If that truly was the case, then her father would not want to be bothered until tomorrow at the earliest. The day's events finally catching up on her, Isabella quickly but wearily threw off her dress, pulled on an old night-gown and collapsed on the mattress, immediately falling into a deep sleep.
One of the maids must have forgotten to close the drapes in Isabella's room. The morning dawn acted as her alarm, an unwelcome sight that blinded her the moment she opened her eyes. Unable to sleep again, she decided not to waste any of the day and dressed casually straight-away. Her dreams had been filled with three men - Her father, who held her close before setting her aside on a hard wooden plank. Nathan, who screamed indecipherable ramblings brought on undoubtedly from the leaking bottle in his hand. And Darcy. He didn't say anything, merely sat next to her and smiled. His usual laid-back demeanour was evident even in the subconscious world and kept her calm. Serenity was something she desperately needed in this dream. The dark water was back, but her surroundings were far more claustrophobic. A fence of thick wood surrounded her but barely kept the water back. Isabella could feel the tears again, now at a hysterical level. Cal didn't seem to notice her as she continued to cry, instead standing up and holding a peculiar shaped rod made of the same wood as the border. She wanted the familiar comfort of her father's arms around her back, and the hushed voice reassuring her despite the worst. But he never looked at her, he didn't even seem to notice her. It wasn't until he briefly turned to face her, never making eye contact, that she saw how youthful he looked. The wrinkles of the years had disappeared and his hair-line was decidedly more forward on his head. He looked like the pictures of his playboy days Lucille had shown her. But with the handsome face came the haughty demeanour he had discussed with her. He definately seemed more standoff-ish than he acted nowadays, like a man whose youth had left him arrogant and invincible. It was an unsettling vision for Isabella, who still found the idea of her father being anything other than what he was now rather unusual. Her surroundings rocked back and forward, spurning on her grandfather's grunts and drinking. She instinctively screamed, feeling the icy splashes of the dark water hit her barely covered feet. Panic was taking over her, she wanted somebody to hold her. But Cal did not see her pain. The only one who seemed to care was the scruffy servant seated next to her, barely moving a muscle.
Isabella did not want to analyse any more of her dreams for fear of frightening herself, so put it all down to the drama of the previous day. After all, the men in the dream had all played a crucial part yesterday. Dressed in yet another pair of slacks and a plain shirt, Isabella headed to the kitchen for some breakfast before the rest of the house awakened. After a fight, Cal and Jocelyn would usually lie in bed until late after noon, giving Isabella some peace before the storm. Right enough, the kitchen was empty except for the obligatory servant, who seemed to be sweeping the same patch of floor over and over again. Isabella grabbed a china bowl from one of the countless cupboards and searched for something to fill it. Whilst looking across the table-tops, she noticed a large collection of wild flowers tied together with pale string perched in the sink. Atteched to the string was a torn scrap of paper, which she picked up. She was surprised to see her own name at the top, albiet shortened down to 'Izzy' which she didn't entirely approve of.
"To Izzy. Thanks for a fun day yesterday. Come back and see Lizzie and I any time. From Darcy. X"
Onc she finished reading, she smiled weakly. It was a sweet gesture, one that she wasn't accustomed to. Men didn't give her flowers unless it was on the receiving end of a business deal, so Darcy's gift was surprising. Perhaps it wasn't inconceivable that a man could enjoy your company without wanting your name on a form. She picked up the overwhelming bunch, almost too large for her to collect in her small hands, and placed them in a vase that adorned the window-sill. It was an antique collector's item but she thought it was pointless not to put it to some good use. They certainly made the room appear brighter and more vibrant. She would need to return the favour but doubted flowers were Darcy's ideal gift.
Isabella decided today she would do nothing. She grabbed one of the copious amounts of books from the library and lay on the exquisitely padded couch in the sitting room in the west wing. Nothing was going to disturb her - the dining room chair against the door saw to that. The silence was welcome. It was so welcome that she unexpectedly nodded off on the couch, the book falling onto her lap folded at the page she had just read. This time the dark water wasn't in her dreams but her father remained, this time having returned to his loving, familiar state. She didn't wake up until the banging on the door overtook her dreams. Someone was trying to get in.
"Isabella!"
She recognised her father's voice immediately and jumped up to move the chair, letting the book slam to the ground with a surprising thump. Opening the door with the residue of sleep still in her eyes, she was relieved to see how relaxed her father seemed. None of the previous night's tension appeared on his expression, a content smile complete with wrinkled edges. It was a great improvement and relaxed Isabella.
"Not disturbing anything, am I?" He asked with a smile on his face.
"Sorry father. I was just reading and fell asleep."
"With the door locked?"
"It takes desperate measures to get some peace in this house."
"True," He sighed, knowing that the quiet he had promised her for this vacation had completely disappeared, replaced with nothing but chaos. Maybe his proposition would change things. He entered the room and picked up the abandoned book, placing it back in it's alphabetical order amongst the other books on the shelves.
"Are you okay?" She asked, sitting back down on the couch but in a more ladylike manner. Cal joined her, keeping his hands on his lap, over a pile of card bound documents. It was hard not to notice how much they shook, the veins pulsing boldly amongst the clammy pale skin. A moment of consideration from Isabella and she realised that her father was overall beginning to look a little unwell. Stress was evident on his face thanks to the ever growing bags under his eyes. Cal felt every ounce of tiredness in his body, like weights under his skin that coaxed him into falling asleep for unlimited amounts of time. But force of will prevented sleep and he tried to act optimistic, if only for Isabella who was soon becoming his one ally. It was like an obsession trying to prepare everything to cement her good future. He had read and re-read the business sign-over documents more time than anything in his career. Everything was to be perfect, no mistakes were acceptable.
"Of course I'm fine, don't worry." He said, no conviction in his voice. "It's just been a less than conventional vacation."
"You couldn't help any of that. You don't have control over Grandfather's actions, no matter how tempting it would be to have that power."
"I'm sorry that you had to be on the receiving end of that...drunken imbicile."
"Don't be. You have nothing to apologise for, it's his fault."
"Well, I told him exactly what I thought last night. He won't bother us again. At least until he sobers up, whenever that happens." Cal said sternly. "Anyway, that's not why I'm here. I actually have something of great importance to discuss with you." He pulled out the first page from the document collection and lay it in Isabella's hands. A quick skim across the miniscule type and he realised just what her father was offering her. Her gaping mouth was enough response for Cal.
"Is that a yes?" He smiled.
"Father, this is...this is a big responsibility." She stammered, checking the document again to make sure that her mind wasn't playing tricks on her. "What on earth have I done to warrant such a position?"
"Isabella, you are so intelligent and business minded that it puts me to shame. You'll be 18 soon and I'm not going to allow you to waste your life in some pointless position that is usually given to young ladies of your age and status. I realise that it's a difficult job and you'll have much to learn but I'm certain that you'll be up to the challenge." Cal took a fountain pen from his front pocket and held it out to Isabella. "There are small crosses next to where you need to sign."
She couldn't completely gather her thoughts about what was happening. Isabella didn't know what was stranger, the fact that she was 17 and soon to be a vice president of a major corporation, or knowing that her father was crazy enough to offer her the position with no reason to. The most obvious answer to the latter thought was family favouritism. Even the most financially minded person could let personal desires take precedence. If that was the case, she couldn't possibly take this job.
"Would you offer me this job if I wasn't your daughter?" She asked.
"Definately." He replied without hesitation. "You've ever had any self confidence, darling. You are capable of doing this job, believe me when I say that."
"Well...I'm still a little apprehensive. I do appreciate this father, but I'm still too young. Shouldn't you be hiring someone with a little more experience in the field?"
"But then it wouldn't be a family business. Besides, you have a lifetime to learn and, at the risk of sounding horribly sentimental, there's no other person I'd rather have by my side."
"That was rather cheesy." Isabella grinned.
"But it's the truth. You don't have to sign now, I realise how big this is. Please promise you'll consider it, you deserve this job." With a kiss on her forehead, he left her alone in the room, fountain pen resting next to her.
Her eyes stayed widened and began to water. It was a baffling choice on her father's behalf, but something she was completely grateful for. Of course, she would take a lot of time to think it over, not make an irrational decision that could ruin everything for the Hockleys. It was a case of outweighing the negatives with good things she could contribute. Music was her first love but she'd always held a passion for the family business and it would be an honour to keep the name alive. Her piano would need to take a break for a while, which wasn't very appealing though. Another main problem for Isabella was her complete lack of authority. She was not skilled in leading others and blushed at the thought of shouting at a stranger. Even in today's society, it was still difficult for a woman to be taken seriously in such a highly sought position. She didn't know if she felt ready to meet so many challenges so soon after leaving school. Adulthood beckoned but she still felt like a little girl. This was going to take longer than one night to think about.
"Isabella!" A shrill voice squacked from the distance, waking Isabella from her trance-like state. The sun was setting outside, the familiar kaleidoscope of colours mixing in the sky. She had not idea so much time had passed, such was her strength of concentration on the subject in hand. Jocelyn's voice could wake anybody up. Without invitation, she entered the room and stood in front of Isabella, packaged envelope in her arms. Something about her was suitably menacing, at least moreso than usual.
"Oh, hello Jocelyn." Isabella said, no attempt made to feign interest in her step-mother.
"I believe congratulations are in order. You must be so proud of yourself. All that hard work in your years as a Hockley is finally paying off." Jocelyn smirked. She was in no mood to skip around the issue. Plus with all that was about to be revealed, things were much more fun with the occasional cutting remark.
"Yes, well I haven't quite decided if I want to sign up for the job so soon after school." She murmured in reply. "But if father thinks I'm capable of the job, there must be some truth behind it."
"Of course. I mean, Caledon isn't the sort of man who lets something as frivolous as his love for his only child get in the way of a rational business decision. There may have been other better, more sensible choices, but he made the right choice. In his mind."
"Didn't you want the job?" Isabella asked. She knew the answer already, but took great pride in the seething whistling noise Jocelyn made through her teeth in silent anger.
"Well, you know how it is." Jocelyn tried to sound uninterested, but failed.
"No I don't. Would you care to explain?"
"Let's not discuss business now. Especially since I have something for you." Jocelyn changed the subject. She was losing the battle but was guaranteed to win the war. Handing over the envelope, she couldn't help but grin. Isabella tentatively opened the grown package, taking out a framed picture she'd never seen before. A woman of youthful appearance was depicted, and undeniable beauty. Even devoid of colour, her beauty was evident.
"Who is this?" Isabella asked.
"Open up the frame." She said.
Carefully, with shaking fingers, she pulled the back of the frame apart and laid the ageing photograph in her hands. Written on the back in black ink, in Cal's distinguished script, was a name and a date.
Rose, 1912.
Isabella was ecstatic. Finally, some sign of her mother. She was not at all how she imagined her to be, mostly because she looked nothing like herself. The hair was darker, at least the pictured hair was darker than blonde appears in black and white, and she was much prettier than Isabella. The lack of family resemblance was a little deflating, but it couldn't compare to how joyful she was.
"Thank you so much Jocelyn!" Isabella exclaimed. She was so happy that she could even thank her step-mother without a hint of sarcasm.
"Whatever for?" Jocelyn said with unconvincing naivety. Ten years of competing with that girl, who by right should never have been in her life at all, had left her devoid of any emotion for her. There was something utterly detestable about her optimism, politeness and ability to please everybody. To end it all would bring her more pleasure than anything she'd received from her marriage of convenience.
"I've never seen her before, she's so pretty. This means a lot to me, thank you for your kindness." Isabella smiled, keeping the picture close.
"She's a beautiful woman, I can see why Cal so was entranced by her."
"I wish I could have met her." She contemplated lost times together, hugging the photograph to her chest.
"Why?"
Isabella paused, not understanding what Jocelyn was getting at.
"I don't know how you would have gotten on, considering she despised Cal. No wonder she ran off from him. Sealed her own fate I guess, but angered him. He's still hung up on her, even though he denies it."
"My mother ran away?" Isabella asked. She couldn't understand what was being said, Jocelyn had an annoying habit of being cryptic when it suited her. "I'm confused."
"Your mother?" Jocelyn laughed, a bellow that filled the room. "Darling, you've got the wrong end of the stick. Rose is not your mother. Who on earth let you believe that?"
"Bu...but father...he said my mother's name was Rose."
"Rose De Witt Buckater was Cal's fiance 14 years ago. She died when the Titanic sank, same night you came along. Even Cal doesn't know what your mother's name is. Or your fathers."
"Jocelyn, what the hell are you getting at?"
"It doesn't take a genius, dear. Haven't you ever wondered why there are no baby pictures of you? Or why Cal gets so twitchy when you ask about your mother? Or why he never mentioned the Titanic to you until a few nights ago? What about Nathan's outbursts of late? You don't hate your real grandchildren, do you?"
The picture fell to the ground, Rose's eyes peering back at Isabella, the sort that follow a person around the room. The dark water appeared before her eyes, making more sense with each passing moment.
Mouth trembling, glittering eyes full of tears, ready to fall, Isabella grabbed the picture and stormed out of the room, running towards Cal's study. Jocelyn followed, eager to see what would arise.
"FATHER!" Isabella screamed, the time for politeness over. She wanted answers from the only man who could provide them. He sat in his study, perched on the edge of his seat. He had never seen Isabella in such a state before, not since infancy anyway.
"Darling, what's wrong?" He asked worriedly.
"Tell me the truth, no lies." She stammered, beginning to breathe awkwardly. "Who am I?"
"I don't understand."
"Am I really your daughter?" She asked, afraid of the answer. Cal's eyes flickered away from hers, just for a second of hesitation. But it was enough for Isabella. Each breath was like a part of her world falling down around her. No words needed, her life was practically over.
"Isabella..." Cal too felt the same anguish, no tears or sobbing could match what he felt. Fourteen years of perfection were over.
"I want an explanation. Now." She asserted herself for the first time to her father. Or whoever he was.
"Okay. I'll tell you everything."
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Author's Note: Sorry this took too long to get up, my computer is practically steam powered. I hope this is worth the wait, the full story comes in the next chatper! Thanks for reading everyone!