Heart of Gold

CHAPTER ONE- PRINCESS PAUPER

CHAPTER ONE: PRINCESS PAUPER

Emery always associated a strange feeling with coming home.

It was like going to the dentist or the doctor- it wasn’t fun, but it was necessary.

The looming mansion which was supposed to be hosting a party stood before her, looking oddly unwelcoming for a place that was home to so many. The dark rooms were a few too many, and they remained like black eyes staring deep into her as if they were ready to suck her soul out.

This is why she took longer than normal to get out of the car. If she was being honest with herself, which she rarely was, she’d rather been at home, sifting through Netflix and buried under mounds of comforters. But tonight was a night where she didn’t get to choose. Not really.

Because to choose what she really wanted would’ve been seen as a betrayal by her grandmother. And Emery didn’t care about a lot of things, but she did care about her grandmother.

With that thought in mind, she finally shut the engine of her car and got out. If she stayed glued to her seat any longer, she was going to turn around and drive back home. Although she could muster the strength to attend what was sure to be another torturous three hours or so with her relatives, she could not muster a smile as she walked the gravelly path towards the open doorway.

The huge, mahogany doors which had been hand carved and shipped from Spain by her grandmother stood open, giving the illusion that anyone was welcomed inside. Sure, if you could get past the security by the front gates. Even she, who was the granddaughter of the owner, had a hard time getting inside. Did they think she’d bomb the place? Please, that phase was so middle school.

Shaking her head, she reflected how the house really brought out the nasty thoughts in her. Stepping inside those gates had woken a beast from slumber, one that had been napping peacefully for the few years that she had deigned not to come. Now the beast slowly unfurled from slumber, as if lifting its head to sniff the air.

It was a familiar scent, of course. Blood. Her blood. Which her relatives had so carelessly spilled as they took bites out of her like they were ravenous sharks, and she was nothing but chum.

Yes, her childhood and adolescence had been short of nothing but horrific for her. There were only a few people here she really wanted to see, and weighed against the number of those faces that she never wished to see, it was quite a big difference.

As if sensing her presence, a familiar figure descended the stairs. The last time she’d seen him, there had been more hair on his head and less lines on his face, but he was still as familiar to her as her own reflection. “Miss Whitehall,” Jonah, their aged butler, greeted. He had been with her family long before she was born.

For his part, Jonah was surprised to see the young lady standing by the door, looking lost even as she came home. He could see in her eyes that the years, and life in general, had not been kind to her. It was difficult to believe that she was the same twenty-one year-old woman who walked out of those same doors only five years prior. He honestly thought he wouldn’t live long enough to see her return, but for once in all his time serving her family, he was glad to be wrong.

Emery found herself smiling. Jonah’s face was one she was glad to see. It seemed to be entwined with only good things, good memories. She felt more kinship for him than she did for most of her relatives. “Hello, Jonah. I’m not late am I?”

The butler returned the smile, knowing full well she was joking. One did not arrive to a Whitehall party late, lest they dare face the wrath of one Regina Whitehall, the matriarch of the family. “Quite early, in fact. I do believe it will be another half-hour before the party officially starts.”

At this, Emery could not hide the slump in her shoulders. Another thing Regina would be outraged at, considering Emery had the strictest tutors in both academics and etiquette while growing up. No one among those tutors had forgotten to shout or scold her for slumping her shoulders, biting her nails or rolling her eyes. “Fabulous,” Emery muttered, her voice dripping with so much sarcasm, she could’ve drowned everyone in it.

Jonah, who had never liked seeing Emery’s bright blue eyes dim, offered her a solution. “I do believe the music room is empty of any guests. Perhaps having a go at the old instruments will lift your spirits.”

Emery slowly straightened up as the beast in her head purred. For now, it was content to avoid any relatives. Perhaps the music could even lull it back to sleep. Yeah, she didn’t want it pouncing out at any inappropriate moments. No need to alienate herself further. “That sounds great!” Enthusiasm had somewhat returned to her.

Jonah nodded his head sagely, as if he was used to coming up with good ideas, and it was all in a day’s work for him. “I shall bring you some tea and your favorite butter cookies to tide you over until dinner,” he announced before continuing down the stairs and disappearing in the direction of the kitchen.

Emery smiled despite herself. Jonah was so formal and managed to sound like a British butler that walked out of an eighteenth century novel. It never failed to amuse her, even as a child.

For the first time that night, the apprehension in her chest was replaced with a small amount of joy. She turned left of the foyer- the opposite direction of the party, and proceeded down a familiar hallway. Her walk to the music room almost felt like a trip down memory lane. She remembered running these same halls as a little girl, her pigtails flying behind her as she giggled.

Behind her, she could almost hear the echoing pitter patter of the maid’s shoes as she was chased. Paintings of different people glared down the hallway, as if scrutinizing her even from beyond the grave. These were the older generations of Whitehalls- ones that were alive before her time. As a child, she’d looked up at the faces in curiosity, wondering why none of them ever smiled in the paintings. Now, she shuddered at the menacing gazes and hastened her footsteps.

She passed by her favorite parlour as a child. That was where she received most of her friends when they came over to play or study. Some of them had been awestruck at her house while others lived in similar accommodations and didn’t give a second thought to the grandeur of it all.

Finally, near the end of the hallway, she reached the music room. This was her hiding spot as a child. Her maids would chase her until she ducked inside and hid along with the neglected instruments. The door creaked open, letting her know that the place had not received much love since she had been gone. A few seats sat in front of empty music stands in one corner, as if waiting for a host of music students to arrive but will never come. There were shelves allotted for smaller instruments like flutes, clarinets and a harmonica. Different guitars lined one corner, each representing a summer of studying for her. She’d learned to play the acoustic first since she found it easiest. Then the electric guitar followed- not her grandmother’s favorite phase. And then there was the ukulele which she studied more for fun than anything else.

But her favorite instrument sat with a layer of dust, taking up most of the floor space. It swallowed the center of the room, begging for someone’s love and attention.

She wasn’t even sure how the grand piano would sound now, but she looked around for a rag to wipe it off. If she tried playing it, a cloud of dust would surely leave her heaving and sneezing before she could get through one song. The rags were stacked on the shelves along with the other instruments, and they seemed relatively cleaner compared to the other objects in the room. Covering her mouth, she began the meticulous but careful task of wiping down the piano. Her hands were gentle on it, as if it were a fragile vase instead of a magnificent instrument.

Finally, she could see the sleek black color under the layer of dirt.

A few more minutes, and she was discarding the rag and settling into her chair. The feeling was so familiar and so overwhelming, it nearly brought her to tears. This was another thing she had missed. In all her years of working hard and trying to build her career, she’d forgotten to make time for her hobbies. That, or it became nearly impossible.

Her fingers shook as she ran them over the keys, not yet pressing down to make sound float from the inside of the instrument. She grazed the black and white tiles, trying to remember everything involved in bending the piano to her will. Hesitantly, without breath, she began to play the notes, one by one. The ease and effortless manner with which her hands moved across the different keys made her feel as if it was only yesterday that she’d laid her hands on them. A gentle melody wafted up, enticing any of those that would listen. The slow, sad song became accompanied by an equally sad voice.

“Hello world

Hope you're listening

Forgive me if I'm young

For speaking out of turn

There's someone I've been missing

I think that they could be

The better half of me”

This had ironically always been her favorite song, even if she didn’t feel like she had a home. Not really. Home was a construct, something that could keep you safe, but no place made her feel that way. Home could’ve been someone whose arms would open to welcome her in a warm embrace. She didn’t have that either.

She closed her eyes as she continued playing the song, the lyrics touching something deep within her. This time, the beast in her mind was slumped, its baleful eyes not liking this feeling of hopelessness that was threatening to drown out everything. Everything except the music.

But as her hands played the last note, a slow clap broke her from her trance. The darkness drew back, as if stung by the sound, and she turned to face the doorway. She wanted to know who this intruder was. The beast also sprang up, defensive. Ready to tear anyone who would ruin their solitude.

Words were lost to Emery as she saw the man standing by the doorway. His tall frame nearly reached the top of it, and his broad shoulders blocked the view from the outside. There was a trace of stubble on his face, as if he couldn’t be bothered to shave this fine evening. The effect created a shadow across his already chiselled jawline. And Emery felt something else she hadn’t felt in a long time. The need to draw.

This marble statue standing in the doorway, staring at her with hazel eyes, seemed to be a Greek masterpiece come to life. He was dressed in an immaculately tailored blue- grey suit. It brought out the shade of coffee in his hair. “That was impressive,” he said in a nice baritone, walking further into the room even though he was uninvited.

This was, after all, Emery’s place. And even though a part of her mind told her this was illogical, technically the whole place belonged to her grandma, this did not stop the beast from bristling in anger at the proximity of the stranger. Emery felt her knuckles tighten, staring unflinchingly at this man. “You were not meant to hear it,” she ground out.

“But luckily, I did,” he replied, observing the talented musician more closely. He had never seen this strange girl before, and she seemed to be out of place in this lavish place. Her rigid posture and cold expression told him so, as much as the oversized pink sweater, blue jeans and white sneakers she had been wearing. Knowing Regina Whitehall, she might’ve had a stroke had she seen such an urchin dressed in her house.

There was also a youthfulness to her face that told him she must’ve been a few years younger. The face, which was a bit round, was still strikingly beautiful barred of any makeup. But it was mostly the color of her eyes that stopped him in his tracks and rooted him to the spot. They were the bluest of blues he had ever seen. Any mortal fool who might’ve looked upon them was destined to drown. Even now, he saw waves and turmoil crashing together behind those blue orbs because she stared at him without giving a reply.

He took this as a sign to continue speaking. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you around here before. Are you new?”

New? What did he mean new? Just as she was about to ask, Jonah once again saved the day by arriving with her tea and cookies. “Miss Whitehall- oh, and Mister Davenport- good evening.” He rolled the tea cart in- of course her grandmother would have a tea cart- and came to a stop before the couple. Mister Davenport, as Jonah had called him, moved to sit beside Emery on the piano bench, and she could not protest.

There was a quizzical look upon his face. “Whitehall? As in, Regina Whitehall?” he finally asked, turning those hazel eyes on her.

She sighed, the beast also grumbling in her head and pacing back and forth, wishing to be let out of its cage. “My grandmother,” was all Emery supplied before grabbing the cup that Jonah had poured and quickly drinking the tea to avoid further conversation. It didn’t matter that she nearly scalded her tongue in the process. Just anything to stop the intrusive Mister Davenport.

But her answer seemed to have stooped Mister Davenport, and it was more successful at shutting him up than the tea had been at shutting him out. Grandmother? James Davenport always thought Regina only had one grandchild- Caleb.

Caleb Whitehall was working as an intern in his company while finishing up his last semester in college. That was how James had become so close with the family. Or so he thought. Now he realized, there were still a few things he didn’t know about the Whitehalls.

“How come I’ve never seen you before?” he asked after he finally regained his composure.

“You ask a lot of questions don’t you?” Emery bit back, her voice nearly coming out like a snarl that echoed the beast in her head.

If James was taken aback, he didn’t show it. Or perhaps he was just used to people being annoyed by him. “How will I know the answers if I don’t ask?” he quipped, not at all bothered by her blue glare. It looked a lot better than the melancholic expression he’d caught upon her face when she was playing the piano.

Jonah took this as his cue to leave. Best not to be there when things escalated because, at this point, it could go either positively great or terribly wrong. Even though he knew both Emery and James quite well, he couldn’t imagine how’d they’d be when left together.

It was a chemical combustion waiting to happen, and he didn’t want to get singed by the fire. James and Emery didn’t notice the butler’s swift and silent exit as they were both busy staring at each other. This close, James could see the small freckles on the bridge of Emery’s nose, the dark circles under her eyes and her chapped lips. Yet this made him all the more curious about her, as if she were the first real human being he’d seen in a long time. Real. No make-up. No pretences. Definitely no fear as she stared him down with those steely eyes.

“I’m sure my grandmother would be happy to tell you all about it,” she said before getting up from the bench. “Come on then. I’m sure most of the guests have arrived by now.”

And they had.

Dressed in everything that was glitter and gold. Emery was immediately dizzy at the array of colors and strong perfumes that assaulted her when she pushed the doors to the dining hall open. Different designer dresses, couture cocktail gowns, dashing tailored suits, and dripping jewellery blinded her. The lights casted by the chandelier seemed to bounce of their shiny, fake veneer, making her want to gauge her eyes out.

While there she stood, fifty or so pairs of eyes on her. On the single girl- no, single person- wearing a pair of jeans in this room full of people dressed to the nines. Straightening her back, she didn’t let the surprised faces or the gaping mouths daunt her. She’d come this far, hadn’t she? Besides, what was wrong with this people? Getting all dressed and fancy for today’s event as if the memory didn’t bring with it a tinge of sadness. You’d think they were celebrating a birthday or wedding or something.

Struggling not to roll her eyes, she stepped further into the room, walking swiftly past people just as they recovered from their shocked expressions and murmured a hello or an incoherent form of greeting. She ignored it, her eyes only set on her grandmother.

Regina Whitehall always managed to look regal without even trying. Today, she was dressed in a simple beige, sheath dress. Short, lacy sleeves capping off her shoulders. A row of pearls crowned her neck, while her wispy brown hair was piled high atop her head like her own personal tiara. Her expression, though surprised, was more reserved than the rest.

Regina knew her granddaughter was coming. She just didn’t know she’d be wearing that. Lord Almighty, had she known, she would’ve had a dress sent over. Sadly, there was nothing she could do now as her granddaughter stooped down to kiss her cheek. And were her eyes playing tricks on her or did she see Emery arrive with James from her seat at the table?

“Maman,” Emery said in greeting, looking and feeling uncomfortable.

Regina, knowing this was not the time nor the place for a more intimate talk, managed to smile and hug her granddaughter. “I’m so glad you could make it, dear,” she said, loud enough for those closest to them to hear. “Please, have a seat and lets begin dinner.”

Everyone moved all at once- a sea of people converging towards the dining table. Regina looked pointedly at the chair to her right, signalling for Emery to sit down. Helpless, she could not argue. She slowly sank to the chair looking for another pair of familiar blue eyes- her brother’s. But he was not meant to be found. Instead, across from her sat James, a guest of honor.

James flashed her a smile, but it was anything but reassuring. She felt stiff, unprepared.  A displaced princess come home, seated beside the powerful matriarch. But Emery knew she was only given respect and deference for the person seated beside her- Regina. She held no true power here. Her grandmother might’ve been the queen of this tiny palace, but Emery might as well have been a pauper playing dress-up to the other people around her.    

The bell was rung and the servers came in with the first course. 

So the torture had begun.