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The rest of the chairs are being filled and I watch as the fifteen stroll out across the stage and take their seats, only… there’s one missing. The elusive Emmet Harkwright, the only one who didn’t have a picture next to his bio.
A woman steps out onto the stage and sets a microphone down before scurrying away and is replaced by none other than Ms. Vanderbilt.
“Good morning ladies, today they will give you the great honor of being within the presence of Sir Harkwright himself. Do not address him, sit up straight and if I hear a single noise or see any of you fidgeting, then I will escort you from this land and ensure you pay back what you would have earned in the year’s entirety here.”
Millie is suddenly sitting straighter than before, even I couldn’t resist the warning in her voice and Caitlyn looks as though she’s about to pass out any second now.
She walks off the stage only for a man to step out in her place, I can’t take my eyes off him and Ms. Vanderbilt will have nothing to worry about in regard to me moving. I couldn’t if I tried.
H
e’s tall, at least six foot three and he’s far from balding. He’s lean with muscle tone that can’t be missed in his well fitted, three piece Harkwright suit. Oh yes, he even has his own clothing line. His hair is silver and his beard is short and well looked after but what has me rooted to my seat is his icy steel eyes, they fucking terrify me. He comes to a stop in the center of the stage and his eyes scan the crowd, assessing us and calculating odds that only he is privy to.
“An assembly such as this has never occurred so early on in the entirety of the Academy history, usually we make it to at least half way through the first year,” his tone is cold and cutting as his eyes snap to one of the guy’s and I’m not even going to try to decipher it. “Bradley has claimed a Miss Daria Lewiston, come to the stage Miss. You now belong to him,” he holds his hand out and Bradley rises from his seat and moves to stand beside - and slightly behind - Sir Harkwright.
Daria climbs up to the top of the stage, her strawberry blonde hair falling in soft curls down her back, with her baby blues attached to Bradley’s chocolate brown eyes. He’s smiling at her and she’s returning it and if I didn’t know better, I’d say hers was genuine.
She walks to stand beside him, his honey brown skin falling upon her California tan as they link fingers and stand as close to each other as they can.
“A claiming is not unusual within the Academy but it is not a decision to be taken lightly. A Harkwright reserves the right to claim any lady who he sees fit to call upon, she will become his property to do with as he pleases until he sees fit to end the arrangement. Whilst being claimed, no other Harkwright will enjoy her company and she will be obligated to refuse any order given to her by any man who has not issued the claiming. This can last for however long the man decides and usually at least three claimings will be made by the same person over the years, in fact it is encouraged,” none of this is said by Sir himself, it’s a goddamn recording that plays across the room as he levels us with his unrelenting stare.
“This lesson will not be repeated, welcome to the family Daria. For now,” he gives her a degrading look that screams of how little he truly rates her before he abandons the stage and we’re officially dismissed.
Fuck me, a claiming sounds fucking awful and yet… Daria couldn’t look happier.
“Come on, you owe me a date with the gardens,” Caitlyn says, pulling on my arm and I can’t think of any reason why I shouldn’t. No matter how hard I try to think of one.
The gardens were… okay. The problem is, I’m not really the outdoorsy type and I can’t see that changing anytime soon. Caitlyn however, was in her element and I have a feeling I will have to make a few more trips if I want to keep ahold of this weird friendship we have going on. It’s more born out of dependency than anything else but I’ll take what I can get.
I go back to our room while Caitlyn heads off to get some lunch and I find Liam sitting in our room with a strange look on his face.
“Hey, is everything okay?” I ask, not understanding why I even care and I know for a fact that I shouldn’t.
“Sorry, I have just had a hard day,” he says as he scrubs his hand across his face and I step up in front of him.
“Do you want to talk about it? Maybe it will help,” I say with a smirk and he flips me off before smirking back.
“I’m related to the Harkwrights, it’s the only reason I’m allowed to work here and have access to the ‘girls.’ It’s a load of shit really but what can you do? Anyway, I ran into Sir today and he wasted no time in reminding me of my responsibilities. No rest for the wicked, right?” He smiles but there’s no warmth in it.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask, slowly lowering myself to sit down beside him on the sofa.
“This will sound really lame and no doubt I’ll lose a few of my man points, but a hug wouldn’t go amiss,” he gives me a wink and I stiffen up.
“You know I can’t, as long as I’m here, I don’t belong to myself,” I say sadly, as my hair falls to shroud me from his view.
“Don’t start believing that for a second, you’re stronger than you think and you will always belong to yourself,” he holds his arms out and I hesitate before he shoots me the puppy dog eyes and I think I’m about to make a mistake I’ll never be able to take back.
I wrap my arms around his neck as his arms go around my waist and although I feel uncomfortable, I give him this. He’s been nice to me and I don’t want it to end. It’s only my third week and I’ve seen a glimpse into what the next three years of my life will be like while I’m staying here. Maybe if I have Caitlyn and Liam, I’ll be able to see it through.
He pulls back before bopping me on the nose and gives me a soft smile, I don’t miss the way his eyes drop to my lips before he gets up and starts cleaning. Almost furiously.
I think it will be better if I leave him to it so I take myself to the library and lose myself in the written world, I may be a shit student but my imagination knows no bounds and as long as no one starts fucking in here, I’ll be fine.
I guess today is my lucky day, no one has come in to fuck around, literally if history is anything to go by and my mood is fairly positive as I head back to my room and change into my shorts, over sized sweater and Doc Martens. Yep, it’s well into nighttime and the slip of paper Aeron gave me was a pass to wear my own clothing during my late night baking sessions. It’s fucking perfect and for this alone I could damn well kiss him.
Honestly there is no place on this earth that brings me more comfort than a kitchen and I’ve had plenty of sexist remarks thrown at me because of it. Not that I give two shits what anyone thinks, at least about this. It’s the one place where I feel confident because I know I’m not just good at what I do, I fucking smash it out of the park every damn time.
I’m elbows deep in dough, having kneaded out any residue of frustration and I’ve decided to make some sour dough bread, when the door swishes open. I glance over my shoulder but I can’t see anyone there and like a moron, I’m not even questioning it. Any given day I would stop what I’m doing and find out why the door opened, but I’m not and I don’t know why.
