Chapter 27 – Daisy
I t’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.
Better late than never – that’s the approach I’m taking with holiday decorating. “Where would the tree typically go?” I ask Mrs. Keating once everything has been assembled. She prattles away about past years of large parties with numerous trees inside and out but mentions a family tree by the fireplace in the den. “Let’s do that.” We’re going to keep this simple.
Luis found a perfect pine to chop down yesterday. I haven’t the heart to tell him yet that most of these old boxes of decorations will be going back to the attic untouched.
It’s four days until Christmas and, while I’d hoped he might help me decorate, Grant has been ridiculously busy with work since the charity ball and everything that happened that weekend. He comes home late each night, asks about my day and spends the next hour rendering me incapable of coherent thought before we both drift off in our post-orgasmic afterglow.
If I’m lucky, I wake early enough to kiss him goodbye, knowing I won’t see him for hours and hours. I understand he wants to keep the estate but the commute to the city sucks in more ways than one. I never thought I’d become so attached to spending time with him and, the more he opens up with me, the more that term paper-marriage rings false.
At least I’ve found a good routine to keep me occupied. I still visit the ducks every morning and evening and spend time chatting with the servants except for Old Vinegar Fish. Other than the hedge maze, I’ve seen most of the estate now including the Barclay Family Mausoleum located well past the swan pond. Etched in marble, there is a list of family members buried there which matches up with many of the severe-looking portraits in the halls of Barclay Manor.
I also discovered an old greenhouse in a small garden close to Grant’s study. The windows are dirty and cracked and no plants grow there now but it would make a lovely little bower to hide away and paint even without proper flooring or climate control.
Mimi has officially taken over Grant’s penthouse and I visit her often. With her approval, he’s hired a part-time maid and a caregiver to check in with her regularly but she’s doing fantastic with her physical therapy, nearly back to one hundred percent, and she’s enjoying her weekly massage appointment with Eros in particular. My grandmother was delighted to learn from some of her old neighbors at Shady Acres that the place is undergoing a major renovation with a whole new (and kinder-natured) staff being hired.
Grant denies responsibility but I know better. He’s so much more giving than I ever imagined he could be. Angelica, the new maid, informed me that no ‘small’ portion of her wages are claimed to live on the estate as Grant had mentioned the day he was going to hire me. No portion is being taken at all.
“You’re a good influence on him. If only Mr. Linus could have met you, too,” Mrs. Keating murmurs when I mention it.
My face grows warm but, despite Grant’s objections to me visiting the area, I’m still arranging donations for the shelter as well. Efrem may be disappointed that I’m not spending as much on spa visits and at the trendy boutiques as a proper billionaire’s trophy wife should but perhaps the Barclays might be known for their generosity rather than their penny-pinching going forward. If I can have some hand in that, so be it.
I’ve seen Jewel just once since she returned to Rod but things are terribly strained between us yet again since our last argument. I invited her to spend a few days with me at the estate, hoping to mend the rift. “Not everyone has a man who wouldn’t notice if they disappeared for a few days,” had been her sour reply. I know that at one point in our short marriage that would’ve been true of us but it’s not true now… is it?
In brighter tidings, I’m taking a new direction with my art and started studying like a serious student again. Online videos and books from the library will suffice until I return to school next fall. I’m going to participate in the public mural painting event in a few more weeks which will give me something to test myself with. I can’t wait.
More importantly though, I started a new project for Grant. There’s no portrait of Elyse, his mother, hanging in the house and he only has the one photograph. I just need a wee bit of insight into my subject. It won’t be ready in time for Christmas or his birthday the day after but, like the holiday decorating, better late than never.
“Could you tell me a bit more about Grant’s mother?” I ask, pulling out tinsel and holly as Mrs. Keating takes a seat with a cup of tea.
“Oh, as I’ve said, she kept to herself after a while, especially as Ms. Verity’s health declined and Mr. Linus grew even more taciturn because of it. I think she felt like the household was set to spy on her, poor dear.”
“With Mr. Radcliffe around, I can see why she might’ve felt that way.”
“True but she loved Master Grant fiercely, that was plain as day. She’d sing him songs and tell him stories, the more fantastical the better.”
“And, Grant… liked that?” It’s hard to picture my practical husband being an enthusiastic lover of fantasy.
“He loved it when he was little. Said he was going to be a pegasus when he grew up and asked for a sparkly wand for his birthday three years in a row.”
“Pegasus and a sparkly wand?”
“Yes. You know, the horse with wings.” I nearly choke on my tea Mrs. Keating has poured for me as she continues. “It wasn’t until he was seven, when Mr. Linus started taking an interest in his education, that he became so practical.”
Seven seems terribly young for that and I wonder if he ever got his sparkly wand. “Was he close to his grandfather?”
“As close as Mr. Linus allowed him to be.”
“Didn’t he love Grant?”
“Of course, he did. Very much in his reserved Barclay way. As for Grant, he looked up to his grandfather immensely though he was frightened of him at times. Once he realized what a disappointment his father had been, he was determined to be the perfect grandson and heir.”
“That seems like an unfair expectation for a child to place on themselves.”
“It is. Hurry, hurry, work and worry, that’s your husband though there’s a dear heart hiding down there somewhere, I know. He still adored his mother’s stories and she never quieted his own, always wanting to hear what he thought of things. Sometimes, it seemed as though they lived in their own private world when they were together. Luis could tell you more though.”
“Luis?”
“Oh yes. I suppose a gardener doesn’t seem as likely to be a spy as an estate manager and she got on best with him. But, Ms. Elyse and Master Grant would disappear to the hedge maze for hours on end whenever his grandfather or the tutors would release the boy for the day. He often bragged that he knew it like the back of his hand.”
Is that why it’s boarded up? Was his grandfather jealous of Grant’s love for his mother and the time they spent exploring the maze? Or was it too painful for a boy of ten to visit after her sudden passing?
“Hello? Daisy, where are you?” the welcome but wholly unexpected voice of my husband calls from the foyer.
Gasping, I drop the string of lights in my hands and hurry toward him. It’s barely noon. I can’t believe he’s home so early. I’m glowing with happiness when I reach him and then realize him coming home early isn’t my only surprise.
“Mimi!” I rush to hug my grandmother and Grant tries to step aside. Not having that, I pull him into the hug as well. He’s stiff at first, almost as if he doesn’t know what to do with this sort of affection, but Mimi laughs and I feel him soften, his larger arms engulfing us both.
“What’s all this?” I ask breathlessly as Anders carries in luggage and wrapped packages. He shoots a quick wink my way which my husband doesn’t see and I ignore.
“I thought Mimi might enjoy spending Christmas with us and I thought you might like some extra help with the tree today.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful! Thank you,” I say, kissing his cheek. “I’m just getting started, Mimi, so if you want-”
My grandmother shakes her head. “My tree-decorating days are done but, after that long drive, I was promised a comfortable chair and a stiff drink while I watch the two of you have at it.”
“The two of us?” I ask, turning back to Grant.
“Well, I’ve never decorated a Christmas tree before… but I would like to with you.”
I think my heart has tripled in size when I tell him I’d like that very much.