Vincent Hawthorne
Hawthorne Manor house is the most imponent and the biggest and richest of Durham. The construction of the first residence of the family dates back to the 17th century but that building no longer exists.
At the moment there are two Hawthorne Manors, the oldest tone from the 18th century, where I used to live up until now and this one, from the late 19th century. This property was created to be a summer house but when Aunt Elizabeth was promised to marry Joseph Gotta, my grandfather used this and half of his wealth as a wedding dowry, allowing them to live comfortably.
The long hall of the entrance is slightly chaotic at the moment, with all the employees are running around carrying furniture, portraits, chandeliers and whatnot, up and down, east and west, hastily following my mom's dictatorial orders.
As I look around me, I take in all the small details decorating the hall. The long rectangular division by the entrance has its walls covered with this intrinsic vegetalist decorations, enhancing the neoclassical influence.
White is the main colour, contrasting with the pearly and golden details of the decorations. It's subtle but classic, letting the portraits of the family be the focus of the walls. The one closest to the doorway is one of my aunt Elizabeth and Joseph adorned with this beautiful gold frame.
Right next to them, it's my grandparents with my aunt and father while they were still ten and four years old. The line of family portraits continues up until the first Duke, where this beautiful U-shaped staircase starts, leading to the noble floor.
This property is even bigger than the one I grew up in, and now it's mine.
Since my aunt had no children, as they had planned, because they were second-degree cousins and had grown up together, hence no romantic feelings existed. I became the sole heir, in an attempt to reunite the wealth that has been divided.
Thus, turning our family, the richest and second most important in Great Britain.
The lineage of our family is old. The first Duke of Hawthorne received its title in the beginning 1600s, right after allegedly, saving the Kings life by being the author of the anonymous letter that the authorities received with the Gunpowder Plot's plans.
William Hawthorne was a Baron who lived comfortably in his humble family home but after saving the King's life he was graced with the hand of one of his illegitimate daughters and the title of Duke of Hawthorne.
They became the most famous nobility couple of the Court back then and throughout the years, the several marriages with other European noble houses and the British royal house themselves, my family became the most powerful in the Kingdom, right after the Royal Family.
Last century, that was cemented when my great grandfather, James Hawthorne, married the King's illegitimate sister, Mary. Making my grandfather, Henry Hawthorne, cousin to the late King George.
That makes me cousin in third or fourth degree to King Charles IV. And second in line, since he has no living siblings – because Joseph Gotta has passed away even before my dad did -, and has no children.
As if the burden of being Duke of Hawthorne wasn't enough... I still have a claim to the throne if Charles IV doesn't have kids soon.
"Took you long enough," my mom's snide remark brings me out of my reverie.
It's then that I notice Camilla's presence in front of us.
"Your Graces," she bows to us and my jaw clenches at the sight of her.
Unlike the last time I saw her, her face is adorned with the lightest layer of make-up, from which I can only recognize a little bit of eyeliner and the peachy shine from the lipgloss that covers her plump lips. My eyes linger for far too long on her lips and my pants start to magically shrink, constricting around my groin.
To avoid a disaster, I look down but regret it instantly.
She is not in a uniform, like the other employees running around the property, but she is wearing this tight black pants that hug her figure in all the right places and an almost see-through white blouse that is buttoned up until the beginning of her cleavage, showing just a teeny tiny bit of what her chest might look like.
And fuck me if I don't want to just rip that shirt off and see it.
Living here will be fucking torture.
"I am sorry, one of the windows got jammed up at the noble floor and I am the only one who knows who to make them work properly," she answers with a calm and composed tone, finishing with a kind smile.
"Well then, show us where my son will be staying," she requests.
Camilla looks at me and bows her head once more before addressing me: "We've prepared every single room in the Manor for you to choose which one you'll want, Your Grace."
"Nonsense, my son will stay in the Duchess' quarters."
"Mom, I am sorry but I will have to disagree with you. I'd rather not sleep in the room where my aunt passed away less than a month ago." I give her a pointed look.
She huffs but doesn't fight me on it so I address Camilla. "Please, lead the way."
The noble floor has over twelve bedrooms and my mom insists for me to take the second-largest, to which I begrudgingly agree but another thought comes to my mind.
"Camilla," I call and she looks at me expectantly. "Prepare a bedroom next to the office as well, I'll probably have a few late nights where I'll be too tired to change from one wing to another, if you may."
She answers with a quiet "of course" and I thank her.
"Where do you and all the other employees sleep?" My mom asks when we pass through the office.
"I used to sleep in a room right next to the Duchess per her request. When her health started to deteriorate she needed someone who could be close enough in case she needed aid but ever since she, uhm..." she gulps and it makes me look at her.
A deep frown is etched onto her eyebrows. It still surprises me how much she seems to be affected by my aunt's death, she was only her boss in the end but apparently, their bond was far beyond that.
Which might make sense... Camilla's mom died when she was young as well. My aunt, probably, took that maternal role in her life. She was a kind and loving woman.
"Say it, child, after she died." My mom tantalizes with an evil tone.
She never got along with my aunt because she was close with dad and my mom would get jealous. I never really understood why but she would throw a fit every time we visited Aunt Elizabeth and she wasn't allowed to come. She'd become enraged, saying she would spend the entire time bad-mouthing about her.
She'd often ask if I had heard anything but I'd always tell her the truth. I hadn't, and if they had talked about it it was never in front of me. But I seriously doubted, our visits were always so cheery and light-hearted.
A light whimper escapes Camilla's mouth and a sudden tug at my heartstrings sours my mood, instantly.
"Mom, please don't be cruel." I hiss.
"Yeah, after she passed away," Camilla continues with a sad smile. "I've brought all of my things back to the housekeeper room, right next to the kitchen."
"Good, at least you know your place."
"Okay, that's enough," I say, excusing us from Camilla's presence. "Everything's set out here, David will take you home now."
"What? No way, I'll stay with you for the next couple of weeks, to help you set in and improve the manor." Mom insists.
"Mom, I'll be fine on my own," I grumble, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"Nonsense, you don't know how to run a property of this kind," She quickly dismisses me but I pull her back to me.
"That's exactly why I have a housekeeper, she'll take care of everything. It's her damn job," I raise my voice but my mom's pointed look makes me sag my shoulders and mutter a quick apology.
"That girl won't work. I was already thinking about dismissing her, I'll take over while we look for someone suitable and stay here with you."
"What?No!" I roar.
Mom's eyes wide at my outburst so I take a quick breath and continue: "Mom, Aunt Elizabeth's Will was extremely detailed," I start and for the first time she stops to give me her full attention. "According to what's written, I have to live here alone until I get married and Camilla is to not be fired, at all or ever."
A round of expletives leaves my mom's mouth.
"Oh, I know what she's doing, Vincent! She had it all planned out." She exclaims when I place her down next to the SUV that brought us here. "Son, don't get yourself be manipulated by her. Women can bewitch any man they want."
This was Aunt's decision, after all, aunt's planning. I know Camilla hadn't had a hand in this because the will witnesses were my father and Camilla's mom. So, this means the will is several years old and not as recent as my mom thinks.
"Mom, please, are you listening to the nonsense you're saying?" I scold her. "The girl grew up in that Manorhouse, that job is all she has. I don't even know why you're so agitated about this? Don't you trust me?"
That finally gets her to settle down and with a sigh, she nods, "Just don't forget that you're meant for big things, my darling. You can't afford to fall in love. Especially with a housekeeper, no matter how pretty she is."
I know, but it seems that my mom likes to remind me of that, when a girl comes close to me, and twist the knife in my chest every single time.
Then, David, her driver, finally opens and closes her door before going to the driver seat.
I watch as they depart from the property, lost in my thoughts.
Even though I tried to play it down, my mom had was right in being worried. This is going to be much harder than I expected. But this house is big and I am hopeful it will be big enough for both of us.
It'll be easy to avoid her. Piece of cake.
The little pebbles crunch underneath my shoes as I turn around towards the Manor. Just then, from the corner of my eye, I see a petite silhouette hurry inside through the side door. It was just a blurry shape but from the white and black colour of her outfit, I know it's her.
Hope, that's all I got now. Hope that somehow I'll get out of this unscathed.
👑👑👑
The clock marks two in the morning and I haven't been able to fall asleep yet.
I've closed myself in the office once my mom left, committed to organizing it with my things, in the way I like to have them, so I could start working tomorrow. One of the maids had brought a delicious dinner that I devoured before going back to work.
When the clock reached eleven in the evening I crashed into the bedroom, right next to it, ready to sleep the exhaustion off, but the moment my nose got a whiff of the sheets my brain awoke again.
It's the same vanilla-like scent that reaches my nostrils whenever Camilla is around and I curse my brain for registering the scent. It got stuck on my mind ever since I've seen her for the first time in years, back at my aunt's memorial.
"Fucking hell, I won't be able to sleep like this," I curse and leave the bedroom.
Heading down the stairs towards the kitchen, I hope a late snack and some water will help my brain get rid of the thoughts.
There is only one small presence light illuminating the kitchen, just enough to help me not crash against anything and find the cupboard where I take a glass and place it underneath the tap.
The water refreshes my throat, mitigating the heat that my body was in, just because I was thinking of her. I relax slightly, as the tension dissipates and sleepiness peeks through.
As the drowsiness increases, I place the glass in the sink and turn to leave, at the same time the door that leads to the orchard opens, revealing a petite and curvy silhouette entering the kitchen.
Long-toned legs are bare until up until her mid-thighs, where a flimsy and silky textile starts, barely covering her body. It clings to her hips, easing only in the tight curve of her waist. Her bare arm is tucked underneath her chest, towards her other arm, where a small dog is tucked in, just as if she was carrying a small baby.
My breath hitches at the sight, and it's not because of the dog she's carrying. But because of the position, her arm is in, pressing her bra-less chest, making it seem like it's going to spill from her nightgown's cleavage.
Heat spreads around my chest, downwards to my groin and my boxers tighten and my eyes keep roaming up and down, several times, while she whispers silly nonsense to the dog, with innocent giggles in between.
I clear my throat to bring her attention to me.
Then, at the exact moment, she turns and we lock eyes, she gasps and stumbles back, almost falling to the ground.
👑 A u t h o r ' s N o t e 👑
I got this stupid crazy need to mix history with fiction. So basically, if there is a Hawthorne family in the UK's nobility I have no freaking idea (probably not) BUT, I decided to have one for my story. The gunpowder plot at the beginning of the 1600s and King James period is historical, everything else isn't - just so you guys know.
It'll be a crazy mix but I'll try to always explain if you don't understand something.