THE RATLIFFE HOUSE – Chapter Twenty-Eight
THE RATLIFFE HOUSE – Chapter Twenty-Eight
The next day, I rushed home from tutorials to freshen up and change for tea. Not that I had any clue what people wore when they “went to tea.” And I’d never met a guy’s family without being dressed up for a date or something. I rifled through my wardrobe. Dress suit? Too businesslike. Miniskirt? Too sexy. Maxi skirt? Too beachy. Finally, I settled on a nice clean pair of light wash jeans and a sheer boho-style blouse with flutter sleeves over a white tank. I brushed out my hair and pulled it half-back with a butterfly clip, added some soft makeup and a nude lip gloss. Nice. A simple, girl-next-door look.
I went out to the kitchen and found Adam sitting at the bar, brow furrowed, tapping away on his Blackberry.
“Hey,” I said, hanging back at the doorway. I hated feeling like I was interrupting him. But his brow immediately softened as he looked at me, and the look of concentration gave way to an admiring smile. I knew I’d made a good outfit choice, and then I thought how lucky the girl would be who got to see that look on his face every day. Of course, the thought immediately made me self-conscious again, and I felt myself shrinking back into the hall. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”
“Oh no, I was only waiting for you. You look … summery.” He tucked the phone away into his pocket.
Summery? I guess that’s a compliment. Right up there with “That’s a nice color.” Still, I was determined to play it cool. Even if I couldn’t rein in my feelings completely, I could at least make sure I didn’t wear them all on my sleeve.
“Thanks,” I said, trying not to give an over-eager smile.
“Ready? I thought we might walk, if you like. It’s not far if we go through the back.”
I agreed and he led the way through the garden to a black iron gate hidden behind the rose bushes. A light whiff of the Scepter’d Isle took me back to that moment when he’d first offered to cut one for me. How could I have been so rude? I tried to brush it off, instead focusing on the bees that were feasting among the pink roses while the hinge squeaked on the gate.
“I didn’t even know that was there,” I said, as Adam held the gate open for us.
“It’s a bit discrete, I suppose. I don’t use it often, but it leads through the orchard to the side of the manor.”
We walked through the orchard at a leisurely pace, accompanied by the sound of whistling birds calling to their mates from the treetops. The trees grew on either side of the sandy, worn path, and although the trees themselves were not very tall, the thick mass of branches still gave us enough shade to be comfortable.
“Are these apple trees?” I asked, observing the shape of the leaves as we passed.
“Some of them. Quince and pears. Plums too.” He stopped in the shade of one tree, examined it a moment, and pulled down a branch for me to see. A cluster of green fruits lay in his palm. “The fruits are beginning to form. Be ready for harvest in a couple months. But the trees are loveliest in spring, when the flowers bloom. The whole place is full of pink blossoms, and the bees have a time of it gathering all the nectar and pollen. Terrible for allergies, of course,” he joked, “but splendid to see. Right now, they’re not much to look at. Only a promise unfulfilled.”
We continued in silence a few steps farther.
“Did you name your company after the orchard?” I asked.
He looked a little surprised. “Yes, did Mrs. Scott tell you?”
“I saw it in a magazine in the sitting room.”
“Oh, must have been that ‘Thirty Under Thirty’ feature. I do hate those sorts of things but you know, have to do it for the publicity. I wish they didn’t have to include a photo. I always feel as though I’m grinning like a monkey.”
“I thought you looked nice.”
“Would be hard to look worse, I suppose,” he said with a smile even brighter than the one in the picture.
A colorful finch landed on the path in front of us, cocked its head, gave a low whistle, and flew away again.
“Cheeky little thing, isn’t it?” he said, laughing at the bird. “You know, I used to see you studying in the sitting room a bit at first, but then you stopped coming. I hope I wasn’t disturbing you by being too loud on the phone.”
“Actually, I thought I was bothering you. You always closed the door when you saw me, so y’know. I just found a different spot.”
“I only closed the door because I didn’t want to interrupt you. I never meant to turn you away. Perhaps I should have asked, instead of assuming.” This last part he murmured, almost to himself.
I should have asked too. It occurred to me that half my trouble with Adam had been I’d tried to interpret him instead of simply talking to him. Why couldn’t I just talk to him? What was I afraid of?
My reflections were soon diverted by the sight of the manor in its full expanse, with walled gardens, green lawns, and the river off in the distance.
“Better view than the drive, don’t you think?” Adam asked.
“It’s even bigger than I thought!” I gasped.
“Big enough, I suppose, for all the clutter,” Adam replied. “Come, we’ll go down this way.”
Adam lent me his hand as the path steepened down the hillside. “A bit slippery here,” he said. And oh, despite my pleasantly demure exterior (he was just being polite, after all), wouldn’t you know that I turned to melted chocolate again as soon as I felt his touch.
In a moment, a long cement sidewalk surrounded by a low hedge presented itself. Adam led the way around to the walk, and as we advanced my ear caught the sound of two voices—one tenor, like Adam’s but louder and brassier, and one deeper and gravellier, with an accent I couldn’t place.
The voices became clearer as we turned a corner into a large, paved courtyard. A man in khakis and a teal polo shirt with some kind of medical logo was bending down to adjust a crutch. With another step, the second man came into view. I could see that this other man was incredibly tall and handsome—broad shoulders, thick muscular neck, and golden blond hair swept neatly back on his head. His mouth was large with a comical twist, his nose perfectly triangular, and brow deeply furrowed over flattened eyes.
“Get on with it, Howell,” he demanded, gesturing for the crutch.
It was then I noticed the other crutch circling his forearm, and the dark braces fastened over the soft linen pants on his legs.
“You’ll get it when it’s ready,” Howell replied in a thick voice without increasing his pace.
The blond man twisted his lips in vexation until he spied us at the corner. “Stop! Stop right there!” he cried out to us. “I’ll come to you.” He pulled the crutch from Howell’s hand. “Oh, enough, it’s perfectly fine.”
Sliding his forearm through the unadjusted crutch, he steadied himself and began a laborious walk, one step after the other, across the courtyard. A bead of sweat rolled down his brow, but he only gritted his teeth and continued the trek, finally coming to a stop in front of us. A broad smile spread across his face.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, in a voice dripping with charm. “Introduce us, won’t you, Adam?”
“Geoffrey, this is Lucy Steppenwolf. Lucy, this is my brother, Geoffrey.”
After that struggle across the walk, I would have expected Geoffrey to be breathless. But instead, with perfect composure, he held out his hand. “How are you, Lucy?”
I felt my cheeks warm, in spite of myself. He looked only a few years older than Adam, but he had some air of consequence about him that made me feel more intimidated than Adam ever had. We shook hands, and Geoffrey’s grip held just a tad longer than I liked. At the very moment I was starting to feel uncomfortable, he let go.
“An American and a ginger,” Geoffrey whispered sotto voce, addressing his brother. “Aren’t you lucky?”
“Oh, shut it, Geoffrey,” Adam growled. “Some gentleman you are.”
“Always and ever,” Geoffrey replied, clearly pleased with himself. “I’m glad you could make room in your busy schedules for me,” he continued as Howell brought over a wheelchair and took the crutches from Geoffrey’s hands. The man inserted them in a bag on the back of the chair, then removed the braces from his legs as well.
“Thank you, Howell,” he added, without any trace of the annoyance from before. “Same time tomorrow?” Howell grumbled something in reply, then shifted off, while Geoffrey wheeled over to a patio table set with covered dishes. “It’s such lovely weather, I thought we’d have tea outside. I suppose you walked over?”
“Yes, thought we’d evade those snoopy cameras of yours.”
Geoffrey laughed. “Why, do you have something to hide? Perhaps I’d better install some along the rear as well.”
Adam ignored this. “You’re getting farther than before,” he commented instead, nodding to the crutches as he pulled out a chair for me.
“Not far enough.” Geoffrey leveled a stare at Howell’s retreating form. “They keep saying to be patient. As though four years weren’t sufficient.” He and Adam exchanged a look I couldn’t understand, which disappeared as quickly as it came. Then he turned to me again, all charm and wit. “Adam tells me you’re studying literature, Lucy.”
“Just for the summer. I mean here. But I’m an English major in college. In America. So, I study it all the time.” Ack! What am I saying? I began wishing I had something to drink, if for no other reason than to give my mouth a reason to stop talking.
“Mrs. Scott should be out in a moment with the tea,” Geoffrey said, reading my expression. Then, unexpectedly, he threw back his head and shouted toward the manor, “Mrs. Scott!”
Mrs. Scott appeared on the other side of the glass door, an annoyed expression framed by her gray curls. Despite the frown, I was relieved to see a familiar face, and not the angry butler I’d first imagined on the drive yesterday. She slid the door open and emerged with a large tray containing the things for tea.
“For heavens’ sakes, Geoffrey, stop shouting like that,” she scolded.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Scott. I was only concerned for Miss Lucy. She’s terribly parched after Adam dragged her the back way through the orchard instead of coming down the front walk like a sensible person.” I saw Adam’s mouth tighten, while Geoffrey winked at me. “And look, she’s melting away in the heat. Come, Lucy, why don’t you sit next to me in the shade,” he said, gesturing to the seat beside him.
“Uh, I’m good, thanks. I don’t mind,” I said, although the late afternoon sun was beginning to level itself directly into my eyes.
“You poor thing, you can barely see. I insist, take this seat instead,” he said again. I glanced at Adam, who only cleared his throat and looked away. Feeling caught, I reluctantly gave up my seat and felt the immediate relief of the shade. “Now, isn’t that better?” he said, pouring me a cup of steaming water.
“I was in the house this morning to bring over some groceries,” Mrs. Scott said, setting the milk and sugar on the table. “I noticed two have used nearly all the fruit in the refrigerator.”
“Adam made crepes last night,” I said. “They were really good.” I looked at Adam with a grateful smile but his face was stony, staring into his tea. The sphinx again. Why does he do that?
“Too bad crepes are the only thing Adam knows how to cook,” Geoffrey said, elbowing his brother.
“Stop it, you’re going to make me spill my tea,” Adam said peevishly.
“‘Stop it, you’re going to make me spill my tea,’” Geoffrey repeated in a needling tone. “So what if you spill tea on one of your horrid shirts? It’s not like you’re trying to impress anyone. Is it?”
Suddenly, Adam’s story about them throwing everything but the furniture at each other made a lot more sense.
“Oh, behave yourselves, boys,” Mrs. Scott admonished. “Now who wants cake?”
Again, like nothing had happened, they dropped all their animosity and accepted plates of cake and fruit from Mrs. Scott. I guess I missed out on a lot by not having a sibling. After fumbling with my napkin and nearly dropping all my silverware on the ground, I finally managed to get a forkful of cake in my mouth. The sweet mingling of vanilla sponge and tangy strawberry jam tantalized my tastebuds. I closed my eyes a moment, reveling in the flavor. I could get used to this!
Geoffrey, who had been keenly observing me, now ventured, “So how do you like staying at Ratliffe House?”
“It’s nice. Really close to campus.” I looked instinctively to Adam, who was picking at his cake.
“Must be rather dull, though, for someone like yourself,” Geoffrey continued. “Despite my best efforts to set a good example, Adam still insists on living like a monk. All books and computers. Barely watches the telly. Tell me, Lucy”—he leaned toward me—“does he still have that tiny twenty-seven inch in the sitting room? I don’t know how anyone can even see the picture.”
“We watched a movie on it the other night. It was fine.” My gaze went to Adam again.
“‘Fine’? No one should have to settle for just ‘fine.’ I’ll show you my telly when we’re finished with tea. It’s muchlarger.” He made this last comment with wicked grin at Adam, who was now glaring back. “We’ll take a turn in the library too,” Geoffrey added, as if to atone for his previous remark.
Adam did not look pacified. I began to wish Mrs. Scott had stuck around, but she had returned to the house just after serving the cake. Barely a moment of silence passed until Geoffrey poked in with another question.
“I understand you’ll be returning to the States at the end of summer?”
“Yeah, in five weeks.” Doesn’t he already know that?
“No plans to come back to England?” he pressed.
“I … I guess not,” I faltered. “I have a year of college left before I graduate.”
“And what will you do after?”
“I guess I’ll get a job?” I felt my hands starting to sweat and tried to discreetly wipe them on my jeans. If I had known it was Life Plan Exam Day, I would have tried to come up with better answers beforehand. Not that I really had any answers.
“Will you stay in Chicago?” Geoffrey pressed. “That’s where you’re from, isn’t it?”
“I guess so. I mean, yes, it’s where I’m from. And I guess it’s as good as anywhere else,” I finished helplessly, looking to Adam for a lifeline.
“Enough grilling, Geoffrey,” Adam said in a firm voice I’d never heard before. “Not everyone knows they want to be a lawyer from the age of five like you.”
Geoffrey gave an indifferent shake of his head. “I only wondered if she was coming back here. After all, she wouldn’t be able to stay with you again.”
Why not? Uneasy, I set down my fork next to my plate. Something weird was going on here, but I couldn’t figure it out. It was like watching a foreign film with no subtitles—my eyes flitted between the two men, trying to catch a clue.
Geoffrey turned to me again, voice dripping with irresistible charm. “You know, Lucy, if for some reason you did decide to return, you could always take shelter in my humble abode.” Before I knew what was happening, he had reached over and pulled my hand into his own, raising his eyes to the clouds in some mock display of affection. “‘Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields, Woods, or steepy mountain yields.’ That’s Shakespeare, you know,” he whispered, then kissed my hand before dropping it.
I was too dumbfounded to do or say anything.
Adam was not. “Touch her again and I’ll bash your head in with those crutches,” he growled, face growing red.
“Sorry, did I offend you?” Geoffrey asked him with feigned innocence. “Forgive me, Lucy. I had no idea that Adam was so possessive of his housemates.”
“I’m not possessive,” Adam said, straightening up in his chair again and reaching for his teacup. “I simply respect women more than you do. And I happen to know the difference between Shakespeare and Marlowe.” He turned to me, as I was trying to busy myself with pushing crumbs around my plate. “It’s the only poetry Geoffrey knows. He saw it in a film once and recites it to every woman he meets. Usually within the first ten minutes.”
“Well, in my defense, most of them like it,” Geoffrey said with a self-assured smile. He drew another strawberry from the fruit dish and took a bite. “You liked it, didn’t you, Lucy?”
Gulp.
I managed to say, “I like Marlowe.”
Geoffrey looked pleased. “Mmm, very diplomatic. But don’t worry. I won’t plague you with any more poetry today.”
I would have been relieved by Geoffrey’s response, because despite the weirdness of our conversation I could tell that his opinion was important to Adam. But right after he replied to me, I saw him purse his lips, and give a strange, almost pitying glance at his younger brother. It was gone in a flash, but I had seen it, no mistake. What was that about?And, unable to discover any answer while the conversation turned to other subjects, my reflections inevitably returned to myself: What am I even doing here?
“Shall we make our tour of the ancient remains now?” Geoffrey asked, looking to my empty teacup.
Well, I was here, so there was little more I could do than say yes.
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