"Couldn't you contrive a meeting between them first? I think they would be ideally suited," a slightly quivering voice spoke from the other end of the line.
"No, that won't do," Shirley said. "She prefers it like a package delivery."
"Well, that's tough, Shirley," her mother said.
"You don't say," the secretary sighed. "But are you sure you don't know anyone trustworthy who can save my career?"
"Well, aside from Sir. Flufferton and Mr. Piscatso, I don't know anyone with that human quality."
"I trust you to involve cats in our serious conversation, Ma," Shirley said and rolled her eyes.
"Why don't you ask around? Don't you have friends at all?"
Shirley clicked her tongue and felt embarrassed for her lack of social life despite her always socializing. The last time she met up with her old friends was when she walked down the church aisle to her late husband ten years ago. He died when the chemo didn't work. The Duke of Averbury took her in when he spotted her through the car window. She was crying before the Thame, heartbroken and almost penniless. And the rest was history.
She decided to stay in England and worked at the castle ever since. No wonder she had made no real friends. They were just business friends.
"Ma, can you promise me not to say a word about it to anyone?" Shirley warned in a serious voice.
"Who would I tell this to, Sir. Flufferton or Mr. Piscatso?" her mother said. "Besides I wouldn't want to be the reason my daughter gets fired."
"Well, then I would be the reason I get fired if I didn't find a wife for her on time," Shirley murmured before she hung up.
After the fruitless exchanges with her mother, Shirley had never felt a strong urge to pull out her hair as she did now. In all her years of working with the Wintour, she had met all sorts of challenges, big and small, but this one took the cake. Sighing, she leaned back against her office chair and swirled away from the desk to look out the window. This began to feel like a needle-in-the-haystack situation, and she was so nearsighted.
~*~
Jennifer Leighton went through her high school albums. The house was quiet. On the kitchen table, fruit flies hovered over the half-rotten bananas next to her. She was too engrossed with the past to pay any mind. Flipping one page at a time, she looked at the smiling faces of herself and old friends. At least, the past was concrete. After finishing one album, she put it into a cardboard box. It was only a matter of time before they would be forced to move — might as well get everything ready.
When she flipped through the last page of the last album, she found an old high school photo of her and another girl with bright yellow hair. They stood with their backs against each other. Their heads turned toward the camera with a wide happy smile. Jenny remembered the girl immediately. She was a transferred student. Everyone wasn't interested in getting to know her except for Jenny. She protected the girl from the bullies, and they became the best of friends.
After school, they would go down the dirt roads and explore the abandoned houses. They'd find injured squirrels or baby birds and put them back in the trees. She was the closest friend that Jenny had at the time. After graduating from high school, Jenny met her husband and got married while the other went off to college. They continued to write to each other until one day, the letters stopped coming.
Jenny had Clare and her life revolved around her baby girl. As time went by and the thought of her high school friend also drifted away. Now Jenny felt a sudden longing for the same companionship in her youth. She wondered what her friend was doing now.
With an impulse, Jenny got up and went to grab the telephone book. She flipped through the pages until she found a row of identical family names. There were about fifteen Shirley Johnsons. Jenny got her phone out and started dialing from the top one. Fourteen phone calls later, she got put on hold by a nurse for a woman she hoped to be Shirley.
"Hello?" an elderly voice spoke from the other side. Jenny's heart fell. She had tried all of the numbers, and this was her last hope, but the voice speaking to her was obviously someone else's.
"Oh, hello? Sorry to bother you. May I ask if Shirley Johnson is there?" Jenny said.
"No," said the older woman. "She isn't here anymore. She moved to England a long time ago. Who's this?"
Jenny tried not to sound too disappointed.
"I'm her friend from high school," she said. "I've been trying to find her after we have lost touch for many years."
"Ah, now I see," the woman said. "Well, I am her mother."
"Oh! Mrs. Johnson?" Jenny cried. "It's me! I'm Jennifer, you remember me?"
"Jennifer? The pretty girl who chased frogs in the pond with my daughter?" the old lady said. Jenny couldn't help laughing.
"Yes, that's me," she said. "How are you? I didn't know Shirley left for England."
"Yes, she's been working for some rich family there," Mrs. Johnson said. "Otherwise I wouldn't be able to have this special care I do today. I'll give you her number so you can give her a call."
"Oh that would be wonderful," Jenny said and wrote down the numbers from the old woman.
~*~
It was long past noon when Violet awoke. She rarely woke up late. Her housekeepers had crept several times on tiptoe into the room to see if she was stirring, and had wondered what made their young mistress sleep so late. Finally, their bell sounded, and Hannah came softly in with a cup of tea and a tray of truffle omelets and a warm croissant. Sophia drew back the satin curtains with their shimmering gold lining that hung in front of the three tall windows.
"You have slept well this morning," Hannah said, smiling.
"Where is Shirley?" asked Violet, drowsily.
"She is waiting for you at your office, Your Grace," Hannah said.
"Tell her I'll be ready in fifteen minutes," she said, and, having sipped some tea, turned over a pile of letters placed on a small brass tray beside her. They were the usual collection of cards, invitations to dinner, auctions, tickets for private charities and concerts. There were several very courteously worded letters from the banks reporting future investments. She picked the most important ones and left the rest for another time.
After about ten minutes she got up, and, throwing on an elaborate dressing-gown of silk-embroidered cashmere wool, passed into the onyx-paved bathroom. The warm shower refreshed her mind after the deep slumber. She seemed to have forgotten all about the encounter with Eleanor.
As soon as she was dressed, she went into the library where her father's office was. Shirley had been waiting for her on the couch by the door.
"Are you alright?" was the first question Shirley asked her. Violet frowned back.
"What made you ask that?" she said before sitting down at her desk.
"Oh, it's just that you're hardly ever late...so I assumed..."
"I'm fine, thank you," Violet said, brushing her hair back behind her ear as she looked at another pile of papers on her desk. "How's the search going?"
Shirley stiffened a little. She had been nervous about this meeting all morning. Her hand deftly fished out a file from her briefcase and set them on the table for the young duchess.
"I have compiled some profiles using a private service under an alias," she said. "I made sure that it was a hundred percent untraceable before submitting the request, and these are what I have got so far."
Violet picked up the file and opened it. There were printed documents of women with their backgrounds and photographs attached.
Shirley stood, waiting with her heart in her throat as the Duchess flipped through each one of them. Her face was unreadable. A moment later, Violet put the file down and pushed it back to her secretary.
"Throw them out," said the Duchess.
Shirley's eyes widened in surprise.
"But...why..."
"Shirley," Violet said.
The secretary blinked in confusion but she went to retrieve the file nevertheless. She didn't understand. All the women she had chosen were seemingly qualified. They got both the looks and the educations. One of them was even a beauty pageant. Not to mention they were from outside of the country. Still, Violet wasn't interested in any of them.
"I'll keep looking," Shirley said in a resigned voice.
"Bear in mind that I'm not looking for perfection," Violet said before turning her attention to the other tasks. "And please, hurry up."
"Yes, Your Grace." Shirley gave a bow before turning away.
~*~
Back in her office, Shirley flung herself down on her chair and let out a heavy sigh. She rubbed her temple, feeling an upcoming migraine. Suddenly, her cell phone rang. She frowned at the unknown number from overseas but answered it anyway.
"Hello?"
"Is this Shirley Johnson?" a woman's voice asked.
"Yes, it's me," Shirley said. "Who's this?"
"Oh! Shirley! It's me, Jennifer Hayes from high school, remember?"
Shirley sat up with a start.
"Jenny?" she gasped. "Oh my god, it's been ages since I last heard from you! How are you doing?"
"I'm good," Jenny said. "I found our old photos and decided to try and contact you. Took several attempts before I found your number. Actually, I found your mother's and then she gave me yours."
"I see," Shirley said with a laugh. "I'm so glad to hear from you again. How is David?"
"Oh, he's alright," Jenny said, but there was an underlying tone in her voice. Shirley picked it up quickly like she always did when they were young.
"What's wrong, Jenny?" she said. "You don't sound fine when you mentioned him. Are you two still together?"
"Yes, yes, we are," Jenny reassured her with a laugh. "It's just been a really tough time for us lately. But nothing to worry about. By the way, how are you?"
Shirley knew Jenny was trying to change the subject. All the memories came back to her. When Jenny didn't want to trouble her friend, she would try to steer the conversation to something else.
They talked for a while about their lives after being apart for many years. Shirley told her about her husband, how he died and how she got to work at one of the most beautiful countrysides like Averbury. Jenny sympathized with her heartache and admired her hardworking spirit. At last, Jenny told Shirley about her story.
"Oh that must have been awful for David," Shirley said in pity.
"Honestly, it has been awful for Clare more," Jenny spoke in a sad helpless voice. "She has never had a moment of relief since we went bankrupt. That poor girl is always on her feet."
"Clare?"
"My only daughter," Jenny said. "She's the glue that holds us together, and I love her with all my heart."
"Jenny," Shirley said. "You had been my rock when I needed. I want to help you out."
"Oh, no, please, I didn't call you for money," Jenny said. "We will sort it out once we move to another place. Thank you very much."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," Jenny said. She thought it would be undignified of her to ask for Shirley's help after years of no contact.
"Alright then, I wish you all the best," Shirley said.
At last, they said goodbye and promised to stay in touch.
Shirley felt sorry for her old friend and was slightly disappointed that Jenny didn't let her help out. Not that she was loaded or anything, but at least, she could spare them some.
The secretary leaned back on her chair and closed her eyes, but there was something nagging in the back of her mind. Then it hit her like a lightning. She grabbed her phone back and dialed the recorded number. After a few rings, Jenny's voice answered, and Shirley wasted no time.
"Is your daughter single?"
Clare returned home with a box of pepperoni pizza and went straight to the kitchen. The light in the kitchen was off except the one hovering over the table. Then she found her mother pacing back and forth with a look of contemplation on her face."Mom, are you okay?" she said, noticing Jenny's furrowed brows. "Did the debt collectors call again?"Her mother glanced up, her expression seemed dazed for a moment. When she came to
Shirley stood before the two young women with a vanilla folder in her hand. Her face glowed with excitement and nervousness. Violet and her friend were reclining on a cream-colored sofa waiting for her to speak."Your Grace, I have found someone I really think you should have a look. She has met all the requirements," Shirley began, "she's young, compassionate and reliable...""Spare me the details, Shirley," Violet interrupted
Hannah and Isabel placed the deep-pocketed fitted sheet onto the massive mattress, making sure any excess fabric was firmly tugged underneath. Then they covered it with another cotton sheet before placing the silk duvet over the bed."Do you know who is coming today?" Hannah asked Isabel while she was fluffing the goose down pillows. The older maid looked up with a clueless shrug."I thought Ms. Shirley told you," she said and
When Clare first heard the word 'castle', she imagined an old crumbling ruin or a Victorian-style mansion fitted for a Dracula's movie set, but what she encountered was the exact opposite.Their cars navigated through a long stretching road that seemed to pierce through a grove of oak trees. Afterward, they reached the stone walls covered with evergreen hedges and went through a wrought iron gate embedded with a golden shield of the family coat of arms.
Clare felt every emotion on the planet was coming together and collided as one, but she had dealt with countless rude and entitled people before. This merely came without a surprise. Clare had even anticipated iciness from the suit-wearing woman."A pleasure to finally meet you, Your Grace," Clare said but not without injecting a little sarcasm in her tone. Her bright smile remained unwavering to match Violet's steely stare.
Dumbfounded, Violet stood silent, her mind kept mulling over what she had just heard. The table had obviously been turned. She knew that she would never go back on her words, but in this situation, Violet Wintour found herself receiving the short end of the stick, and she didn't like that one bit.She watched Clare Leighton leaving the room with her back straight like a ramrod and without much of an expression on her face. It was a rare sight that triggered something in Violet's brain, yet the Duchess was incapable of register
Morning in Averbury was the bloomest. It was broad daylight when Clare awoke and sat up in bed, staring confusedly at the pleasantly bright yellow room. Through the windows poured a flood of cheery sunshine and outside something white and feathery waved across glimpses of blue sky.For a moment Clare could not remember where she was. First came a delightful thrill of seeing beautiful nature which her previous life was deprived of, then a horrible remembrance. The one who owned all this earthly beauty was such an unpleasant per
Since it was her first outing around the estate, Clare was evidently smart about it. She was ready in her best clothes and her hair neatly braided to one side. Her face was painted just enough to grant her a comfortable consciousness that she was presentable to the eye of the curious.The land around the castle was too large that they couldn't possibly cover it on foot.
After a long dinner with endless gourmet food, drinks, and laughter, the friends finally called it a night since they didn't want to overexcite themselves and needed to save the energy for more fun-filled activities that they had planned around the dining table. At 10:30 PM, everyone went to their separate sleeping quarters and so did the Duchess and her bride-to-be. As Violet and Claire entered their room, a sense of unease settled upon them. The space was cozy, with soft lighting casting a warm glow on the floral-patterned wallpaper. A large, inviting bed stood in the center, its pristine white silk sheets looked like inviting soft clouds. But for Violet and Claire, it felt more like a shared burden than a place of comfort. Awkward silences hung in the air as they tiptoed around the elephant in the room—the bed they were meant to share tonight and every night for the rest of their trip. The two women exchanged nervous glances, their discomfort palpable. Violet and Claire stood i
The grand dining room exudes an aura of elegance and refinement as seven distinguished guests gather for an exquisite dinner. Soft candlelight dances on the polished silverware and crystal glasses, casting a warm glow throughout the space. The dinner was held on a large balcony with a sea view. The breeze and the sound of waves in the distance added flavor to the evening ambiance. The table is adorned with delicate floral arrangements, giving a touch of nature to the opulent setting. At the head of the table, the host, Arthur Cliffton, son of a Scottish duke, dressed casually for the evening at his beach house. To his right was Jasmine, a renowned artist with her creative spirit evident in her vibrant multi-colored dress. On the left, Jonathan, the young earl, whose smile shined through in every conversation. Seated across from the host was the most handsome, Lord Federick, known for his sweetness and intelligence, was talking delightfully with the ladies. In this enchanting dining t
Violet walked into the room, taking in its grandeur. The room was massive and was indeed splendid, but not in an old-fashioned way as Violet had expected. As she wandered around, the Duchess was rather impressed with the design and its hidden size. Violet felt the need to sit down on a cushioned sofa that looked incredibly inviting after a long flight. She observed the space and noticed the chestnut-colored floorboard that gave off a warm feeling. That was what she wanted for a home - a feeling of warmth and comfort. Like her mother, she would want a place to be some sort of sanctuary. It made her miss Averbury already. The bookshelf was overflowing with hardbound books. Just like a wine cellar stocked with fine wines, these shelves were for great collections of the classics and the valuables. Violet went to the credenza to pour herself a glass of cool water, which had slices of lemons in it. She flopped down again in a wing-back chair by the floor-to-ceiling window and looked outsid
"Oh, how I miss coming to the sun-drenched island of Spain." Florence took a lungful of fresh air. She stepped out of the private jet that had landed at the Canary Island's international airport. The second person to follow was Clare. It was her first time on a private jet. She was still getting used to the special treatments that came with her status, but she was trying to be mindful and kept close to Florence.The whole flight was a smooth and easy journey, and Violet spent the entirety of it quietly working away on her laptop. If she wasn't typing, she was speaking on the phone. The Duchess dove straight to her work and hardly saw Clare again after their dinner night, but when they met during the trip, they had been somewhat cord
Violet considered bailing on the plan to the island that her peers proposed. Going on a trip together and pretending to be a lovey-dovey couple with Clare, not to mention seeing her ex, would be testing her sanity. The thought of it alone exhausted her. It'd been two days since Violet was made to stay in bed, and Clare had come with her meals like clockwork. Although Clare didn't try to force-feed her anymore, she still hang around the room, reading her books and wouldn't leave until the Duchess finished her food. With great disdain, Violet thought she had seen enough of that woman. But there were random flashbacks brought on by the memory of Clare in her swimsuit lurking around in Violet's mind. Despite being intoxicated, overworked, and sick, her memory was still sharp. She remembered being lifted out of the poolside like a drowned kitten. She could still feel Clare's lips on her own and her breath rushing down her throat to her lungs. The act was just too intimate for her comfor
The smell of chlorine clogged her senses. Everything around Clare was a blur of limbs and bubbles. But she managed to kick her feet to push herself back to the surface. The water stung her eyes, and she let out a cough. Clare swam to the edge of the pool and hoisted herself up. She wiped the water off her face. This was such a ridiculous thing to happen when all she wanted was some peace and quiet. Violet had to come and make everything difficult for her.But it was then that she realized that she was alone, and Violet was nowhere in sight. Clare's thoughs stopped. She then looked back
It took at least three days for Shirley to finalize the dinner menu and wine list for Violet's banquet. It wasn't any different from any other event in the past. Averbury Castle had always had important people coming over when the twelfth Duke was alive. But this time it was quite a special case. Violet didn't tell the secretary specifically that it had to be a statement, yet judging from the guest list, Shirley knew what the dinner ought to be and what to be mindful of, for instance, seating arrangement. She did not expect to see a certain name that had been forbidden to be spoken of coming back to the castle.
Clare followed the maids to the northern garden. Next to a small pond surrounded by the blooming rhododendron and azalea bushes, a white table and chairs were set up under a shady olive tree. Yellow-winged butterflies whizzed about in merriment where Violet sat, sipping her morning tea.The Duchess wasn't in her usual business attire. She had on a plain oversized white blouse with a few buttons undone and the sleeves were rolled up to her elbows neatly. Her flowing golden hair was set in a high ponytail, which stunningly revealed her chiseled features even more. Clare was slightly taken aback
A feather could've knocked Eleanor over right then and there. She finally understood what Florence had said to her at the polo field. Indeed, things had changed since the time she left England. But Eleanor did not expect that Violet Wintour, of all people, would succumb to a life of marriage with someone else. Once in a while, she came across headlines about the Duchess. Violet was notorious with her flings yet none of them indicated a committed love interest. It might sound so vain of her to feel this way, but while living her pretentious life, Eleanor had always nurtured a tiny hope that she would come back to find Violet still thinking about her, and that no one could replace what they had together. But apparently, she had gravely underestimated everythin