Everything You Are (21 page)

“Stop it!” Jane giggled. She swatted Ian's hand off her hip and moved out of the reach of his arms. She liked Ian's attention and his groping, but they were supposed to already be on their way to the kitchen. “Mum called us to breakfast five minutes ago.” They had arrived at her parents' house yesterday evening, on Friday, and they planned to stay until Saturday morning. The trip to her parents’ was a last minute decision and an excuse to decline the invitation to a weekend visit to the Thornton estate. She liked Ian's parents, and enjoyed his mother's company, but... The feeling of being pushed might have just been something she had imagined, but it made her feel reluctant to go to that house again.

“So?” With one step he was beside her. His arms wrapped around her middle and he drew her against his chest, while his blue eyes gazed down on her with such intensity that she had to lower her gaze.

“The food is going to get cold.” She curled her fingers around his strong biceps and leaned her cheek against his collarbone. He was Sebastian Thornton. He was the vice president of Thornton Enterprises; he was a rich businessman with the face and a body of a top model. He could have had anybody he set his eyes on, but he wanted her, he was in love with her. Why? She didn't doubt his love. His eyes, whenever they landed on her, looked at her with such affection and desire, as if she was the centre of his world. No, she didn't doubt his love, she just couldn't understand why he had fallen in love with her.

“Jane!” Her mother's yell drifted through the closed door of Jane's room. Mum was probably standing at the door of the kitchen at the end of the hallway, glaring at the door.

“We’re coming!” She lifted her eyes and her hand slid down his arm, marvelling at the hard muscles. He had been working out daily, sometimes even twice a day, and she liked to watch him as he exercised, dressed only in his sweatpants, drooling at the sight of his damp skin and the movement of his muscles. She just wanted to pounce on him and gobble him up. “We’d better go.” She shifted away from Ian, subtly eyeing him. “I'm hungry.”

“Me too.” He grinned and leaned over her. He pressed a quick kiss on her mouth. “Just not for food.”

She rolled her eyes and looped her arm with his before she started to tug him with her to the door and through it. “Mum invited my uncle and his family for a visit this afternoon.” To show off Ian, most likely. “I told her that you had other plans.”

“I did schedule a visit to Green Hall in the afternoon, but I could go there after breakfast.”

He had told her about his plans when they drove to her parents' place, mentioning that he was going to go to see his old housekeeper. “Green Hall, that's that fancy nursing home, right?” How could a housekeeper pay for such a place? Well, according to her own salary, the Thorntons did pay their employees very well.

“Do you want to come with me?”

“Wouldn't I be in the way?” They came to the kitchen and she released her hold on him and darted forward.

“No.”

“Good morning,” her father, who sat at the round table, greeted them before he hunched over the newspaper again.

“Then I would love to go with you.” She joined her father at the table for four that dominated the light, yellow kitchen. When her father had lost his job, they had moved out of their two-storey house into a smaller, one-storey set in the quiet suburbs, twenty minutes by foot away from the town's centre. It was a lovely little house, much more practical than the one they had lived in before. But she spent her childhood in the previous house, while she had lived only a year in this one before she moved out, so it had never really felt like home to her.

“Go where?” Her mother turned away from the stove. “Good morning. Ian, I hope you like spelt bread.”

Ian sat in the chair between her father and Jane. “I think so.”

“Mum likes to bake it herself.” Jane took a piece of brown bread from the bread basket set in the middle of the table. “To Green Hall. Ian is going to visit his old housekeeper, and I'm hoping that I'll learn all about what Ian was like when he was a child.” When her mother had visited her a few weeks ago, to go with her to the obstetrician, she had brought along a bunch of photographs of Jane as a child. She had showed them to Ian and even given two of them to him, when he said he wanted them, both of them ignoring Jane's objections. It was only fair that she get even.

“I see.” Ian's mouth stretched into a half-smile. “In that case, you’re not coming.”

He was joking, because he took her with him anyway, to serve as navigator, he said. Not that he needed her, since he turned on the car's GPS as soon as they got into his Mercedes. The drive only lasted half an hour before they found themselves on the driveway of a large villa. Ian parked the car and they strolled into the building's lobby, where the woman in the reception area directed them to the common room at the end of the hall. They followed her directions, went past four people sitting in chairs in front of the television, and walked to the armchairs facing the windows.

After a glance over the people sitting in the armchairs, Ian gently wrapped his fingers around Jane's arm and led her to the armchair on the far left. “There she is.”

They reached the armchair and Ian, pushing the empty armchair next to the lady aside, stepped in front of her. “Hello, Bertha.”

Bertha turned her gaze away from the window and fixed it on Ian. “Master Sebastian.”

Ian smiled. “I told you that I would visit you at least once, and you didn't believe me.” He pushed Jane before her. “This is my fiancée,” he told the lady.

“Ian!” Jane frowned up at him.

“It's true.” Ian's hand glided over Jane's shoulder.

“No, it isn't. I didn't say ‘yes’ yet.”

“But you will.”

“But Master Sebastian, you are engaged to Miss Cromwell.” Bertha's eyes darted between them before she scowled at Ian. Her voice lowered. “And Miss Cromwell is expecting. What will your parents say? What will Mrs. Cromwell say?”

“It's me, Bertha, Ian, Sebastian Junior. Amelia Cromwell, now Thornton, is my mother. I'm Sebastian and Amelia's son.”

So Ian's mother had been pregnant before her marriage? And she appeared to be so proper and by the book. Jane smiled to herself.

“Master Ian?” Bertha grabbed Ian's hand.

“Yes, it's Ian.” Ian squeezed old lady's fingers, then wrapped his arm around Jane's shoulder. “And this is Jane Bennet, soon to be Jane Thornton.”

“Nice to meet you.” Bertha nodded. “Sit down, sit down.”

Ian turned the armchair so that it faced Bertha and sat in it. His hand curled around Jane's and he tugged her down until she sat on his knee. “How are they treating you here?”

“Well. The service is not as it was when I came here as a girl, and there's no young people here. Don't young people go on holidays anymore?” Bertha asked.

Ian pinched his eyebrows together. “Bertha, you're not on holiday here. This is your home now.”

Bertha looked around. “Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Really? My home?”

“Yes.”

“So, you are not here to take me back to the house?”

“I just dropped by for a visit.”

“How are the things at the house?”

“As usual. When you retired, the new housekeeper didn't get along too well with Beth. For a while we thought that we would have to find a new one.”

“Oh, Beth, is she still the same: loud and strong-willed?”

“Still the same.”

Bertha chuckled and shook her head. “We had quite a few rows in my time, and there was a moment or two when I thought about quitting, but we always managed to sort things out. She’s a good woman, with a good heart, it's just her temper that gets the better of her.”

“Yes, Beth gets upset quite easily, especially if she feels that someone is trying to boss her around. But in the end she calmed down and she and Martha patched things up. If they hadn’t... Mother threatened that one of them would have to go, and they would never fire Beth, she has been part of our family since forever, while Martha...” Ian set his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “You were the one who recommended her, weren't you?”

“I was?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“The new housekeeper, Martha Casey,” Ian said.

Bertha frowned as if she didn't know who he was talking about.

“I have a picture of her.” Ian took a phone from the inner pocket of his jacket and slid his finger over its display. “Here.” He showed it to Bertha.

“Why do you have a picture of your housekeeper?” Jane asked in a low voice.

Ian shrugged and bent closer to Bertha. “Is she your friend?”

“I know her. Where do I know her from?”

“A friend of a friend?”

Bertha pressed her lips together, a crease dug into her forehead which in the next moment smoothed out. “She's that girl's sister.”

“That girl's?”

“Mary's daughter. What was her name?” With her finger Bertha tapped her lips. “Oh, yes, Linda. Yes, Linda. Such a gentle soul and so hard working. Mary, may she rest in peace, asked me if I could look after her, and then...” She folded her wrinkled hands on her lap and deep creases furrowed her forehead.

“What?”

“What have you done to that poor girl?”

“Me? How, when I never knew her? I wasn't even born then.”

“You weren't?”

“It's me, Ian.” Ian sighed and reached out to take Bertha's hand in his. “It's your memory, it seems that it's playing tricks you.” Ian turned to Jane. “Jane, I saw a coffee vending machine in the hall, would you be so kind to bring us some coffee, or maybe Bertha would prefer tea. Bertha, what would you like, tea or coffee?”

“Tea, please.”

It sounded as if he wanted to get rid of her. Jane stood. She didn't need to ask what kind of coffee Ian wanted. “What kind of tea?”

“Something herbal, please,” Bertha said.

“Okay.” She went out of the room and into the hall, where she found the vending machine by reception. She hadn't noticed it when they entered the hall. There were two people before her, and when the older lady had trouble putting in her change, Jane helped her. When it was her turn, she bought black coffee for Ian, herbal tea for the lady and for herself she chose a latte.

“Jen!”

Jane put the three cups together and grabbed them just under the edges with her fingers.

“Jen!” The female voice sounded closer now.

Jane turned toward the voice, but only to see who was showing such little regard for Green Hall's residents. A blonde came into her line of vision. She knew the girl, not too well, but she knew her. They had been at school together in high school and neighbours before Jane moved. She was one of the Golden Four. What was her name? Deborah. Yes, it was Deborah.

“So it
is
you.” Deborah reached her. She put her hands into the pockets of the blue shirt that, with her matching blue pants, told Jane that Deborah was a nurse here.

“Yes, it's me.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Visiting,” Jane said. She had never liked Deborah. The girl had been nice enough to her, if she ignored that Deborah could never remember her name, but she and her friends had made fun of Mark. “It was nice seeing you, but...” She pushed her chin in the direction of the common room with the telly. “See you around.” She started to walk across the hall.

“Your family?” Deborah fell into step with her.

“No. Just my...” Ian had introduced her to Bertha as his fiancée, but she hadn't said yes to his proposal, and even if she had she wouldn't be willing to share such personal information with somebody like Deborah. “Just a friend of a friend.”

“That gay you were hanging out with?”

“No.” Jane stepped into the common room and her eyes fell on Ian. He had a frown on his face and the line of his spine looked tense. Her step slowed down and she thought about how to get rid of Deborah, who had started asking her if she was still friends with Mark. As if she cared. Why was she even following her? Was she bored or something?

With his lips pinched firmly together, Ian listened to something Bertha was saying, his gaze trailing around the room. It stopped on her and his eyes softened and the tension of his jaw loosened.

“Is this your friend?” Deborah asked.

Jane looked at her to see her staring at Ian. “Yes.” The heat of the liquid in the cups was starting to burn her skin. She walked faster and when she got to Ian, she stepped between the armchairs and set two cups on the windowsill before she moved backward to stand by Ian's armchair.

“Thank you.” Ian took the cup with tea and passed it to Bertha. “Your tea.”

“Thank you.” Bertha smiled and wrapped her fingers around the cup, then nursed it in both hands.

“Aren't you going to introduce me?” Deborah asked.

She was still there? Jane glanced to the left to see Deborah by Bertha's armchair. Couldn't she see that she was intruding?

“Your friend?” Ian asked.

“We went to school together,” Jane said.

“And lived next door to each other,” Deborah added. She straightened, puffed out her chest, and lowered her eyelids. “Deborah White.” She offered her hand to Ian.