Chapter 5: Welcome Home

She had been to the Richard mansion before.

Six times in four years. Christmas dinner twice, a birthday celebration for Maria, two family gatherings she couldn’t remember the occasion for, and one Sunday afternoon that Luca had brought her without warning and she had spent three hours pretending she wasn’t completely overwhelmed.

She knew this house.

Except walking through its doors today felt nothing like any of those six times because this time she wasn’t a guest arriving on Luca’s arm with a return ticket back to her own life waiting at the end of the evening.

This time she lived here.

The entrance hall felt different with that knowledge sitting in her chest. The ceilings hadn’t changed. The pale stone floors hadn’t changed. The staircase curving upward on the right was exactly as she remembered it. But everything looked different when you understood it was yours now, when the weight of permanence settled over something familiar and made it strange again.

Charles carried nothing. He never seemed to carry anything. He simply walked through the door of his own home and the house rearranged itself around him the way it always did.

Clarissa followed with her handbag over her shoulder and her spine straight and her face arranged into something she hoped looked like composure.

The entrance hall was not empty.

That was the first thing she noticed.

The last time she had come there had been perhaps eight people in the house including staff. Today it felt like a small city had taken up residence. Voices from the sitting room. Movement on the upper landing. The sound of someone laughing loudly somewhere down the east corridor.

“The family gathered,” Charles said beside her. Not an apology. Just information.

“How many people live here,” she said quietly.

“Enough,” he said.

Before she could ask what that meant Maria came flying down the staircase.

“Finally.” She reached the bottom and threw both arms around Clarissa with the enthusiasm of someone greeting a person they had known and loved for years rather than approximately forty eight hours. “I’ve been telling everyone about you all morning. Come on. They’re all in the sitting room and I want you to meet everyone before Raymond gets to you first and gives you his version of everything.”

“Maria,” Charles said.

“What? It’s true.” She was already pulling Clarissa toward the sitting room. “Just smile and don’t let Uncle Raymond shake your hand for too long. He does this thing where he holds it and looks at you and it’s very uncomfortable.”

Clarissa looked back at Charles over her shoulder.

He said nothing. But something in his expression said she should listen to Maria.

The sitting room had twelve people in it.

Clarissa counted instinctively as she walked in. Twelve people arranged across sofas and armchairs and the window seat, conversations pausing one by one as she entered until the room had settled into the particular charged silence of people who had been talking about something and had just stopped.

She recognized Gwen immediately, seated near the fireplace with the contained elegance of a woman who was always exactly where she intended to be. Gwen met her eyes and nodded once. Not warm. Not cold. Measured.

She recognized Uncle Raymond before Maria said his name.

He was a large man, broad shouldered, with Charles’s coloring but none of Charles’s stillness. He had the loud comfortable ease of a man who was used to filling rooms and expected rooms to be grateful for it. He stood when she entered and smiled with all of his teeth.

“Clarissa.” He crossed to her and took her hand. Held it exactly as long as Maria had warned her he would. “Welcome to the family. Properly this time.”

“Thank you,” she said.

His eyes moved over her once. Quick. Assessing. The smile never changed.

“Quite something,” he said pleasantly, “the way things worked out.”

She held his gaze. “Yes,” she said. “Quite something.”

Something shifted in his eyes. Brief. He released her hand.

Maria steered her firmly toward the other side of the room.

She met Uncle Patrick, who was mild and forgettable and shook her hand with both of his. She met Derek who was handsome and polite and looked at her the way people looked at things they had already decided weren’t worth their full attention. She met Nate who was charming and sprawled across an armchair and said “congratulations or whatever” and somehow made it sound almost friendly.

She was mid conversation with Patrick’s wife when she felt it.

A gaze.

She turned slightly.

In the far corner of the room near the tall bookcase stood a woman she had not met before. Late twenties. Beautiful in a refined effortless way, dark hair pulled back, wearing the kind of understated clothes that cost more than they advertised. She was holding a cup of tea and watching Clarissa with an expression that was perfectly pleasant.

Too perfectly pleasant.

The woman smiled when their eyes met. Warm. Genuine looking.

Maria appeared at Clarissa’s elbow. “That’s Elena,” she said, her voice dropping just slightly. “She grew up here. Charles’s god sister basically.”

Elena crossed the room toward them unhurriedly.

“Clarissa.” She took her hand in both of hers. Soft grip. Warm smile. Eyes that were doing something entirely different from her mouth. “I’ve heard so much about you over the years. From Luca mostly.” A small pause. Just one beat too long. “It’s so lovely to finally have you here. Permanently.”

Clarissa smiled back. “Thank you Elena.”

“Of course.” Elena squeezed her hand once before releasing it. “This house can be a lot to take in. If you ever need someone to show you around, help you find your footing.” Another smile. “I know every corner of this place. I’d be happy to help you settle in.”

“That’s very kind,” Clarissa said.

Elena held her gaze one moment longer than necessary.

Then she turned and drifted back across the room toward Charles, touching his arm briefly as she passed him, leaning up to say something close to his ear that made him glance down at her and respond quietly.

Clarissa watched.

She didn’t know what she was feeling.

She just knew she was filing it away.

Later that evening as Clarissa passed the corridor near the east wing she heard Elena’s voice floating through a partially open door. Low. Unhurried.

“She seems sweet Charles. Really she does.” A pause. “I just hope she understands what she has walked into. This family is not easy. Not everyone is going to make it simple for her.” Another pause. “I’ll keep an eye on her for you. You know I always look out for the people you care about.”

Clarissa stood in the corridor and said nothing.

She kept walking.

But the words followed her all the way to her room and sat with her long after the house had gone quiet.

I’ll keep an eye on her for you.

She stared at the ceiling in the dark.

Something told her that was not a comfort.