For a kid the World they see and the things they are told is the pure unadulterated truth. For many years I believed that every home was like ours, and that it was normal for the servants to only clean and tidy those rooms in use. Hell I thought everyone had servants.
At Archer manor they would take care of the bed hamper I slept in and the small dining room where I took my meals. They cared for my father’s rooms of course and the library where he sometimes sat behind the big desk and worked on company business.
Any other room was forbidden places, locked up behind doors and promises of trouble if I ventured there.
Or they were until that fateful day, almost twenty years ago, when my fathers 2 closest friends and work partners, Harold Ash and Benton Grey, along with their wifes were killed in a plane crash.
Only days later their young sons, who had no close relatives, and none at all capable of raising them to step into the company, arrived at Archer manor. Along with them a whole new world of knowledge and information arrived, also the sad realisation that my father is batshit crazy.
As I enter the small dining room I stop in my tracks when I see my father sitting at the head of the table, reading the newspaper like this is a normal occurrence. Normally he has his food brought up to his private rooms.
But even more surprising is it that his normally rather disheveled white hair has been trimmed and combed into a stylish look. He is also clean shaven and wearing his best suit.
I can’t remember the last time my father looked this put together. On the rare occasions he even leaves his rooms he mostly resembles a battered scarecrow.
When the butler sees me arrive he pours coffee into one of the delicate china cups, then leaves to get my plate. As I am normally the only one eating here I keep my meals simple and small. No elaborate buffet, just a plate of whatever the cook had felt like preparing this morning.
My father has not noticed me yet, but that is no surprise, he spends most of his time in his own little world built up of memories of a happier time.
“Morning, this is a nice surprise”. I say as I walk over to my usual chair and sit down, trying to shake my concerns about the family business and how I should be more involved on a day to day basis.
I had awoken before dawn and spent two hours in my in house office making video calls to foreign business partners and customers. And on searching for an answer that seems to keep slipping away.
So I had decided I needed nourishment to energise my body and mind. “So what has made you suddenly change your routines ?”
My father turns the page of the paper, rattling it and then he straightens it with a sharp movement of his wrist.
“I decided it would be best to get up and ready before my darling bride arrives”.
With my cup halfway to my mouth I close my eyes and breathe in slowly. It seems my fathers world has gotten more and more entwined with his past the last couple of months, but surely he can’t be sitting here waiting for my mother to arrive; he can’t really believe this is his wedding day.
Opening my eyes I set my cup down and breathe out, looking at the man I love dearly despite his weird habits and the … eccentricity. Right now he looks like any rich businessman beginning his day. Unlike other businessmen he happens to believe the ghost of his dead wife haunts the fields and forest around us.
The butler returns with a plate of food. Eggs, ham, fried tomatoes and toasted bread, that he puts in front of me.
As he is about to return to his spot by the wall I stop him with my question. “Gill, did you help my father get ready this morning ?”
“Yes sir. It’s been many years since a valet was employed, so I was happy to step in”. He leans down and whispers. “He also bathed, on his own Accord, and it is not even Saturday”. With that he raises a bushy white eyebrow and stands up, straight as an arrow.
“And do you know why he is dressing up ?”
“Well, yes sir. Mrs Downey is getting the wedding feast ready as we speak and Mrs Barny has been up with the sun to get the front parlour ready for the ceremony. It is gonna be great to once again have a lady in the house”.
But here is no woman, only in my fathers twisted and probably demented brain. “And does she have a name”.
“Oh I am sure she does sir, most people do after all”.
I have long ago learned that patience in abundance is required when dealing with the few servants who are still employed. We have not hired anyone new in ages, when the old ones have retired or passed away, others have simply been promoted. But it might be time for a New and younger butler after all, even though it is hard imagining this place without Gill in control.
He had been the assistant of sorts to the old butler and took over when he passed away in his sleep about eighteen years ago. And I am sure very few men are better suited to accepting and working with the reality within these walls.
“And might you know what this lady’s name is ?” Madeline Conwoy, is my guess, my mother.
“Son, if you have questions about my bride then please ask me”. My father snaps, as he slaps his paper down on the table. “After all, I am sitting right here”.
I do not want pain and sorrow to once again overtake my father when he realises the truth; that his bride has been dead for thirty years. She left this world the night she fought so bravely to bring me, his only child, into this world.
“So when will she arrive then ?” I play along with his dissolution, while I watch Gill silently move back to his spot, out of the corner of my eye.
“She should be here around two. Wedding is scheduled for four, all the paperwork has already been made ready". He smiles. “I want to give her a chance to get to know me a little first”.
This is weird. My parents met each other as kids. They had clicked from the very start, at least if you ask my father. I arch a brow questioningly. “Are you telling me you don’t know me”.
My father shrugs. “We have written to each other, mails and such”.
I suddenly realise that this might be so much worse than my father relieving his wedding to my mom. “So please tell me then, what is her name ?”
“Mrs Skye Sinclair”.
I am staring, with an open mouthed and probably dumb looking expression. This is worse, so much worse than I had expected. “Mrs … so she is a widow I presume ?”
“No son, I am marrying a woman who already has a husband. Use that smart brain of yours, of course she is a widow. You think I have time for skittish girls that need patience and velvet gloves. I want someone who knows how a man's body works and her own too”.
Seriously I can’t believe I am having this conversation with my father. “If you are … needy, I can take you to town, find a … woman. Why go through the trouble of marriage ?”
“I want an heir”.
Just when I thought my jaw couldn’t drop further ot does. “Uhm I am your heir”.
“And you have no plans to marry and produce an heir of your own”.
“I have never said I won’t marry when time comes”. I have only said I do not want love. Love drove my father insane when he lost it. I have no plans of giving my heart to a woman and risk ending like him.
“Please tell me, where is this illusive woman you are going to marry ?” My father looks around like he expects her to pop up from under the table or jump out from a corner. “You turned thirty two months ago. I married when I was twenty-six and you came when I was thirty. But you are still playing around and sowing your oats”.
Well I have calmed down a lot in that area to be honest. And if I take business more seriously I will most definitely go mad. “I will marry, one day”.
“I can’t take a chance on that. There needs to be an heir after you. I am not letting my cousin Poul and his drunkard son inherit. I built this business and it will stay on Archer hands. This house too. You will inherit first, of course. But when you are gone, with a thirty-something years younger brother, depending on how fast she can pop one out, he can step up if you have no heir. And hopefully he is more open to marriage and kids than you”.
My fathers breathing has gone laboured, like he was running while he was speaking.
I stand up quickly. “Are you okay dad ?”
He waves me off. “Just tired Ben. Just so very tired, but I have to secure the business, and my legacy. I should have re-married earlier and had more kids. But I was lost in my grief”. He slumps back in his chair. “Maybe then you darling mother would have moved on, instead of waiting for me”.
Statements like that hurts me a lot, and makes dealing with my father much harder. My mother is not out there waiting. My father simply won’t let the memories go.
“I promise I will marry dad and provide an heir. I won’t let cousin Poul take over anything. I just need to find the right woman”. A woman of a kind that I can never ever love.
“Maybe Skye is your type. I promise, if you like her when she arrives, I will do the honorable thing and step aside and you can marry her today”.
Like that is ever gonna happen. Sadly for Mrs Sinclair all she gets when she arrives is a push right back out the door.
Esteemed businessman Marsden Archer seks a strong, healthy and fertile woman to provide him an heir. Send a mail to this address.*Skye*As the buss rumbles over the old road, I fold the advert I had clipped from the newspaper and slip it back in my wallet. I look out on the countryside passing by, the weather is rather bleak, but still less bleak than my life. I mean agreeing to marry an old man that is known to be crazy kinda says it all.My life is in ruins and I am penniless with nowhere to go.But marrying Mr Archer suits my plans perfectly. Archer manor is big and lays on a huge ground. Mr Archer never leaves, and people rarely visit. And best of all, no one will look for me there. And if they do I will be someone rich with a Well know name and a family behind me.Archer has sent money for my journey, but to hide best as possible I have taken the greyhound. And from the station I Got a lif
*Skye*“Well done”. Marsden exclaims, his green eyes twinkling with mischief. “I think we can say you clearly won this round Mrs Sinclair and put my son in his place. Bravo!”“Thanks, but please call me Skye”.While Being sassy with Ben seems to have won me some points with Marsden, it still takes everything in my to stop my hand from shaking as I hand him a cookie. Trembles run through me like a slow moving avalanche, and it isn’t just the understandable annoyance causing it. It is also this unexpected and very unwanted attraction to Ben that has every damned nerve ending standing in attention.I have of course never met him and I had no idea he would be here, but I have heard the stories. I have heard women drool over his inhumane good looks and to be honest I had known who he was the moment he opened the door.Pretending to think he was a servant was a panicked def
*Ben* My body's reaction as she places her hand on my arm startles me. She might as Well have rubbed her naked body against mine. Seriously, what is wrong with me ? Why do I react so strongly to having her near ? Fuck this, I need to get to town, if not New York then the nearest bar or something, and tonight. The idea of going to bed in my room, imagining her naked form spread on my fathers bed … I close my eyes shortly, no I refuse to think about that. As we walk into the hallway I am trying to hold my breath as every single one has my nose filled with a seductive scent of jasmine flowers. No common scent that half the Young women wear for her. Actually everything about her seems far from common, why would she marry my father ? I am sure she could easily get a young handsome man. “I have to say that I am truly sorry for being insensitive about your fertility. Sorry, I didn't mean to bring back painful memories”. The pain in her eyes as she had answered me hit me like a fist to
*Skye* I have to admit that I hesitated just a moment before walking into the room. We are standing on the landing, looking over the musty room and the two grand staircase leading down to it. The look of things makes me seriously fear that the floor might give away under us. Had the railing not been covered in years of dust I would have probably grabbed onto it for dear life. Unable to hold back a small half sneeze I look at the powder layer covering everything. The windows are covered in grime and the draperies faded, the sun that does get through shimmers in cobwebs and reveals brains of dust dancing, like ghosts of guests long gone. A couple of vases still holds flowers, or their whitered remains “Those other rooms we passed on the way here, the ones with closed doors. Are they all like this one ? Neglected and … sad”. I ask him softly, this place seems to demand hushed speaking. “Unfortunately yes. My father has allowed no one to touch or change anything since my mother die
*Skye* In horror, still trying to recover from Ben’s proclamation, I watch as he turns to his father. “I assume you have no objections”. The elderly man smiles. “None whatsoever. I was rather hoping for this outcome when all was said and done”. Ben turns back to me. “What do you say, Skye ? Much better to be my wife than my mother, don't you think ?” “No !” The word comes out harsh, abrupt, but inside I am screaming, No, no, no, no, no ! I can not marry Ben. Absolutely can not do that. I am here to marry his father. An old man who believes he needs an heir when he already has one. Not his sexy son, who causes my insides to flutter every time he looks at me, my body to warm when he touches me and my entire being to dissolve into a heated puddle when he kisses me. I can not, will not, marry him. "No !" I repeat with the authority of my conviction. With a cheeky grin, he tosses the papers onto my lap and settles against the sofa in an insolent lounge, his arm resting along the ba
*Ben* I am utterly surprised by the wave of relief washing over me. I had not realised how badly I wanted to hear a yes from her. I mean it’s not that I really want a wife, right ? But oh how I want her in my bed, with that luscious mouth, her cheeky comebacks and those whiskey coloured eyes. The way she challenges me entices me, and I have a feeling she will be challenging me at every turn, especially at night. We can have fun together. It might not be the best reason to marry, but hey it’s also not the worst I have heard. Holding out my hand to her, I watch as she takes a deep breath, then crosses the floor to me, placing her hand in mine. I give her small hand a squeeze before tugging it into the crook of my elbow, sending her a bright smile. “It is not a nice thing to gloat”. She huffs slightly. “Admit you would be doing the same if you were in my shoes”. I arch my brow, grinning down at her. “We both know you would”. The little cheeky half smile she gives me makes me wish
*Ben* As I stride into the library, which I have a feeling has not been used for actually reading since my mother was alive, I hear the booming laughter of my father and the priest. I had expected a man of God to be more solemn, but reverend Brown is clearly enjoying the alcohol provided by my father. But men are sitting in front of the unlit fireplace, clutching a half empty glass of amber liquid. I go to the small bar and pot myself a glass, God knows I can use it, before walking over to lean against the mantle. My father seems very much too happy and pleased with himself when he lifts his glass. “Cheers to the lucky groom”. I take a slow glass of my glass. “Have you considered that there is paperwork and such needed for a wedding ?” “It’s all taken care of, I got everything we need right here”. My father pads the pocket of his jacket. I hold out his hand. “Can I just see that ?” My father nods as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out some folded papers that he hands to m
*Skye* Run, run, run ! My mind plays the constant refrain as Mr Archer escorts me to the parlor. Feeling as though I am traversing through a nightmare, I fight to tamp down the trembling that threatens to erupt at any moment. Never in my life have I seen such unbridled hunger in a man's eyes. When Ben had taken my hand and pressed his lips against it, it didn't matter that it was such an innocent spot. The heat emanating from him is such that I feel scorched. As we enter the front hall, I know that if I am smart, I will head straight out the door. I am no novice to men when it comes to what they are capable of, but I suspect nothing in my experiences has prepared me for what Ben will deliver. I had thought being provocative would give me the upper hand, and all it had done is cause me to realize that I might be completely out of my element with him. Even now, I feel his gaze boring into the nape of my neck, traveling across my bare shoulders, sliding down to my hips, back up. Hi