—eight—
the sneaky huxley
THE STEAK ON Paige's plate had been practically savaged when she could only sit prim and proper at the presence of Isolde, along with her parents who were sitting across them. They'd just come back from Hongkong after having been there for three months to watch over the completion of another branch of Manor Hotels.
She was ecstatic the moment her mother called, telling her they'd just arrived at the airport while she was at school this morning. Having a special dinner with her parents was one thing, but being there while her grandmother was around was another matter altogether. It was one of those moments where she'd rather choose to stay in her room than rubbing elbows with people whom she wasn't really accustomed to.
Isolde was exacting, dispassionate, and imposing.
Three things that Paige completely wasn't. Considering that she was her grandmother, it appeared that they were like two worlds apart. The only time that she showed affection towards her was during her ninth birthday, to which she could merely recall as, say, constrained, probably because her grandfather had told her to pass off a present−and even that was already slipping away from the recesses of her mind.
Almost all of the memories she had of her was the occasional hidings behind her parents when she visited them, and there were several eating-in-the-rooms, too.
Suddenly, her phone lit up from where it was sitting for several minutes now and she discreetly lifted it up from her lap to check Arthur's message. They'd actually been constantly texting, even more now when they both decided to pursue a relationship together.
It was their first day being boyfriend-girlfriend and she couldn't help the smile threatening to bloom across her face.
Hello, you.
Meet me outside? :)
Isolde and her parents paused chatting when her grandmother caught her staring down at her phone absentmindedly.
"Didn't I tell you phones are off-limits in the dining area?"
Drawing up in surprise, Paige's smile quickly withered, before she braved herself in facing Isolde as she slipped her mobile at the brim of her skirt. "I'm sorry, grandma."
The room was filled with stale air at this, so did the butler and the maids perking up as though a precautionary measure. Everyone was silent and Isolde's tone was falling like shards, piercing through them all.
Isolde's eyebrow shot up, scornfully twisting her lips. "If you can't conform to even at the simplest rules, how can you justify that you can handle even bigger responsibilities as an heir, Paige? You're turning twenty next month so you better remind yourself to act how a lady should."
Nodding, she fought the urge to sigh and her eyes slipped into her parents, who then shot their sorry smiles at her. She returned it with a meaningful look, before turning her attention back to her grandmother. "I'll be sure to be more careful with my actions next time, grandma."
Casual and unsympathetic, Isolde occupied herself with wiping her napkin around her mouth gingerly, her movements so victorian that Paige still couldn't get over the fact about how fascinating it was.
"There's no such thing as next time, Paige," she paused, lying her napkin next to her plate before turning to the poor young lady. "It's always here and now. We don't wait, we get things done while the other people are sleeping on their flimsy beds, dreaming about being wealthy. That's the difference between the poor and the successful ones. That's what your grandfather did and we ought to put his legacy in high regard. We aspire, we commit, we thrive. I assume you understand."
Paige gulped for a moment, her fingers bracing still around her fork, and nodded in a willowy demeanor. "Yes, grandma," her voice was small, even her, felt small. More so when her phone shook beneath her clothing and she could clearly tell that Arthur must had already been wondering.
It was agony.
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"...you have to trust us on this," appealed Paige's mother, who'd climbed up the stairs with her to her room minutes later after they'd finished off their dinner. She immediately trudged towards the large window situated meters off and across her bed, sweeping the curtains aside to reveal the glass doors and opened them so that now they could feel the cozy air. She turned to her. "Your grandma has always been this way when I met your father. But you have to believe that she only want what's best for you, Paige."
Paige's lips were lopsided when she attempted to give her a smile as they both plopped down on the edge of her bed. "I don't know, mom. She's just so−uptight. It's like everything that I do is wrong. I've never done the right things in her eyes," kvetched Paige, staring intently into her mother's grayish-blue eyes that matched hers. It reminded her of the depths of the ocean.
The way her mother slid down her hand on her hair somehow placated her, but it wasn't enough for her worries to fade completely. Especially at the thought of Arthur waiting for her. She didn't know if he was still out there. "That's your opinion, honey. But not her reality. Just don't think about it too much. You just follow what she says and everything will be alright."
"What if I don't?" It was purely out of curiosity. It didn't mean that she was going to go against her own blood. But her mother threw her an accusatory look all the same. "What if I break her rules? Is she going to cast me away or something?"
Isobel stayed still, her thoughts lingering in the back of her head. It took her a long pause to finally say, "She won't."
Paige furrowed her eyebrows because a part of her never entirely believed it. What her grandmother was truly capable of, she had no idea. She didn't know her own grandmother, to be honest.
Another silence ensued, when in came three knocks on the door. It was Isolde, inviting herself without waiting for their replies. Paige was all but stiff as her grandmother elegantly walked into her room, her stilettos practically floating atop her white faux-fur rug.
"Can you give us a second, Isobel?"
Her mother nodded almost immediately and Paige tried to get a good clamp on that anxiety rising within her. "Of course, mother."
"Aren't you going to take that?"
Paige then realized what her grandmother had said and quickly blinked at her phone. Arthur was possibly worried sick because he was now calling. She'd wanted to hear his voice because she was sure it was enough to assuage her from her frustrations. But she quickly decided against it.
"It's alright, grandma. No big deal."
Isolde's expression was undetermined at this point and Paige couldn't quite shake off that uneasiness she was feeling, being there left alone with her.
"Your birthday is fast approaching," she started, haphazardly checking the snowglobe sitting atop the hearthside, and she stood behind her as she listened carefully. "We've yet to prepare the celebration as well as you. You need to start keeping your actions in check. By then, we will officially introduce you as the next sole heir of Manor Hotels and Amusement Park and you're not about to discredit your grandfather and your family's name."
Paige bit her lip. The pressure was too great, was too strong, and she swore she could've ran for the door but she held a good grip of herself. It wasn't still handed to her but already she felt the leaden weight on her shoulders.
That was the difficult thing about being raised in an affluent family, Paige thought. People thought that being wealthy didn't have its own downsides. Duality wasn't really a thing and so the good and the bad never had been separated. It never existed. Same thing applied to richness; it didn't necessarily mean that a good life meant a happy life. Just less simple way of living in the material world. But difficult just the same.
They suddenly heard a dull thud near her balcony, snapping her out of her little reverie. But they both brushed it off as her grandmother changed position, her back facing the window, and continued on discussing the details for her upcoming birthday celebration.
When she caught a silhouette from her window, her eyes widened in surprise as she was fast realizing that it was Arthur. Biting her tongue, Paige tried to regain her composure and ignored him, but not after shooting him daggers stealthily.
He only responded with an evil grin, adding insult to the injury by waving at her.
Paige was meagerly distressed at his untimely presence but she shoved her rising chuckle at the back of her throat. She urgently made an excuse that she was tired and wanted to get some rest, telling Isolde that they could continue brainstorming next time.
Not a minute later and Paige managed to drive her grandmother off, immediately closing the door and locking it in. She then turned and whispered, "Oh, my god. What're you doing he−"
Arthur lunged right into her arms, greeting her with a short yet blistering kiss. Paige was breathless when he detached himself, and she couldn't retrieve her hand free from clutching his shirt because of this. "I've missed you. You weren't answering so I had to find another way."
She squinted her eyes suspiciously. "How did you get in here?"
He shrugged, clasping his arms around her waist and his lashes fluttered down at her lovingly. "First off, I want to say that someone was giving me the stare outside when he thought I was some strange guy lurking around your mansion." He sloppily, conversationally added, "I was actually, you know, figuring out which one your room is and then I think it was your mom who opened your windows. Had to hide for awhile because−guards," he rolled his eyes, "had to get 'em off my ass first and then I noticed that tree just right by your balcony. See, I don't approve of stalkers breaking into girls' windows, but your house seems to have a cool plan."
Paige tilted her head back with a quiet laughter and gave his chest a slight whack. "You're such a doofus. What if someone sees you here?"
He smirked. "I don't mind."
"Oh, shut up," barked Paige with a gritted teeth, and Arthur was unfazed by this, only cracking up. She then sobered up into a gentle smile, her eyes bright. "I've missed you, too, Art."
They were about to kiss when another knock thrummed heavily against the door, their heads snapping to where the sound came from before looking at each other.
"Paige?"
"Dad?" Her voice was panicky, and while her heart was going unsteady insider her rib cage, Arthur's grin was up to the moon. Idiot. "Um−hold on."
She almost instantly shoved him further and led him to tucked himself under her bed. But Arthur had a better idea. He dragged her instead near the door and she widened her eyes in horror. It all happened so fast. He managed to open it himself before promptly hiding behind the door.
"What're you doing−hey, dad." She cleared her throat, half of her body hidden from her father's view. And while they were talking about the situation in the dining room, Arthur was discreetly flirting and teasing her, unflurried by the consequences if her father were to find out that she'd been hiding a guy inside her bedroom.
Soon, when her father left, she let out a huge sigh. And punched Arthur in every which way, to which he warded off in a laughing fit.
"What're you thinking?!" She flung him a dark scowl. "Do you want us to get in trouble?"
He simply shrugged nonchalantly, smirking. He then toured his eyes around her room, its theme lavender, white, and gray. He was still for a moment, looking up at the glistening chandelier that danced in his forest green eyes, before he studied the cushioned walling near the headboard and the plush bed itself, decorated with a canopy.
The whole ambiance promised royalty and Arthur was quite in awe of it. All of a sudden, Arthur had been snared at the thoughts inside his head and Paige furrowed her eyebrows.
"Are you okay?"
"Huh?" He snapped out of his trance, his mouth falling a little bit. "Oh, yeah, yeah. I just...remembered something."
"Oh."
Arthur had this hesitant look on his face, and then he paced forth and tugged Paige so that now they were sitting at the velvet settee at the foot of her bed. "Is it okay if I stay here with you for the night?"
Paige frowned. Half of her mind was saying that she shouldn't let him. It was, like, too soon for them to be in one bedroom and even though she trusted her boyfriend enough, she was quite put off at the mere concept of them caught up into such an intimate situation as early as day one.
But another side of her said yes. What could go wrong if she'd let him sleep beside her just one night?
Thinking that her mind was fuzzy with hesitation, Arthur put his hands up and said, "Don't worry. I won't do anything, I promise. I can−I can sleep on the couch, it's alright with me," he explained with a stutter, dumbly gesturing to the velvety lavender sofa by the reading window. "I just−I need a place to crash. I had a heated argument with my brother, I can't stand having him around and−and Cain's not answering his phone and like−"
Paige caught his hand inside hers and he instantly sobered up, his cheeks efflorescent under the dim lights of the room. "Shh, it's okay."
She didn't miss the way his jaw clenched and she wasn't certain if he was about to have a breakdown because of the emotion that flickered in his eyes. Or maybe she was just imagining it.
Actually, she didn't know what to think. Arthur was mum through and through and she couldn't just barge into his personal affairs, given that they were just in the early stages of their relationship.
They'd talked about it yesterday but he was particularly clear about how he'd take whatever he was facing at the moment in his own hands. Paige wasn't quite sure what to make of it. She was his girlfriend and she should've been sharing that piece of his sorrow with her. If only because that would make the weight a little bit lighter.
But he insisted that it should stay as it was and it'd be enough for her to be there for him. Even without having a single clue about it.
The clock hit at twelve-sixteen in the morning when Paige suddenly woke up, blearily rubbing her hands against her eyes as she sat up like there was a puppeteer pulling her out of her slumber.
Her sight involuntarily shifted to her boyfriend who was sleeping just right by the window, with body positioned inconveniently−one knee up on the couch, one leg steady on the floor, his right arm resting on top of his stomach while the other dangling by his side; she felt uncomfortable for him.
But his face was none of that and everything in perfect solace. She didn't know how exactly she managed to close the gaps between him and her, she was too compelled at the sheer innocence of his overall being while asleep to remember.
He had a small wrinkle between his eyebrows, as if he was trying to get a good grasp of a dream, although it was almost fading but she shot her hand out−massaging the crease on his skin with a kid gloves, a half-smile glossing her lips.
And he looked angelic now.
It was like a reflex to brush his dirty-blond hair away from his face and now she could entirely see what he looked like sleeping. As if there was another particular way of looking like it, but he easily branded how it should be done.
Or perhaps it was because of how his eyebrows had grown into this high-arched, messy ones which matched his deep set of eyes that particularly intensified his brooding, half-detached demeanor, his long and straight nose−to which she couldn't help but touch in a feathery manner−and his apathetically shaped mouth, as if he wasn't used to smiling at all, accompanied by his defined chin and strong jawline. His overall features clearly defined devilish handsomeness. But they warned everyone he met of him being duplicitous. He could be a saint if he wanted to look like one. And for some reason, you couldn't help but be enthralled at the rare sight of it.
She'd wondered then how this young noble man could feel so helpless.
Paige soon stood up and left for the balcony, all the while thinking that she'd definitely figure out what to do to somehow ease his pain from fighting with his brother.
Paige suddenly was pinned like a lead.
And fell down at her knees just in time when she reached the perimeters of her balcony, her hand in a vice-like grip by the handrail. She clutched her stomach and kept her groans to a minimum. Her breathing was already periled, so did her abdominal pains eating her inside out.
It'd been weeks since she started to suffer from abdominal pains and she kept on drawing a blank about it, and so her supposed checkups had always been held up. That and also because she'd psyched out helplessly at the thought of her being a patient whatsoever. Her immediate remedies were still some acetaminophen and she'd been taking them since.
She guessed it wasn't working.
And now she was succumbed with fear.
She couldn't hold back the rising sob she was trying to quell inside her any longer. She groaned a little too hard, the sweat on her forehead growing like bullets, yet she'd hoped that no one could hear her.
She didn't want anyone to worry. Especially Arthur.
Especially him.
But how one could be so discreet when she was moaning like a pregnant woman going through labor pains, really?
Her back was bent now, contracting her stomach in between her lap and chest so that it would somehow deflate the sensation. Breathing labored, Paige willed herself to ease the pain herself−
−but it was already going out of hand and her consciousness was hanging by a thread.
"Paige?"
She tried to keep her eyes open. But she soon fell out.