"The problem with human attraction is not knowing if it will be returned." Becca Fitzpatrick, Hush, Hush
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Chapter Four
"Forgive me, Lady Rose, Emmett," Stephen apologised immediately. "Please forget this conversation ever took place for my son's sanity ... and pride." He ran a hand through his silver hair as he frowned regretfully. "Just watch him. He'll be more focussed than ever."
"It's forgotten, Stephen," Emmett promised, looking just as confused as Rose did. But it was the polite thing to do. It was neither Emmett nor Rose's business.
They all climbed out of the carriage and Rose set her eyes on Pendleton Park for the first time in years.
What once was a magnificent, Jacobethan style house was now a weathered building in desperate need of some attention. It was of a similar size to Ascot but with the added beauty of having Derbyshire's famous hills and boulder formations surrounding it.
It was a shame that nobody had taken it. But she supposed having several families stay in Derbyshire was better than only one.
"Are you alright after that display, Rosie?" Emmett asked Rose quietly as they walked together towards Pendleton Park.
As they approached, Rose noticed that several of the windows were damaged and were in need of replacing. "Yes," she assured him.
"We shan't be long," he promised her. "Then you can spend the rest of the day with Charlotte." He kissed her forehead
"I don't mind being here," replied Rose. "I'd like to learn about this sort of thing." Her instructors at finishing school had never taught her how to run a business, only to smile in a man's presence and to never sound too intelligent.
"Alright," he agreed.
The smell of dust hit her just as soon as they crossed the threshold into Pendleton Park. The furniture was covered but dust and cobwebs had taken up residence on every surface. There were so many doors and the house seemed to echo every step they took. It was almost eerie. She couldn't wait until it was clean and filled with people.
Derek appeared from down the main hallway, looking as focussed as his father had described. "We'll need to expand the kitchen substantially and a lot of the glass and a lot of the wallpaper needs to be replaced in upstairs rooms. I'll work closely with the men we've got coming, complete some of the labour myself, but I'd wager to turn this house into a hotel we'd need to spend about five thousand dollars."
Rose didn't know the difference between dollars and pounds, but by Stephen's reaction, it was clear that five thousand was a substantial amount.
"Five thousand?" he repeated back, gasping.
"Yes," Derek answered, sounding emotionless. "We will reap the rewards within a few months of opening. Mark my words. I know how to run a hotel. Don't you trust me, Pa?"
"Of course I do," Stephen murmured.
"Won't English guests differ?" Rose asked. "Running a hotel in England might be more challenging. When we travel we often stay with acquaintances, never communal places."
"Rose is right," Emmett said regretfully. "Are you sure you can make this profitable? If you've changed your mind we can undo the purchase."
"When I am finished this is where everyone will want to stay," Derek said determinedly. "I am not only accounting for English guests. I will use my connections back home to send guests over to England as well."
Rose noticed how intense Derek had suddenly become. She believed him when he said that he knew how to run a hotel. But she also felt very sorry for him. Clearly he'd suffered at some point in his life.
"When do you plan on holding that ball, Emmett?" Derek asked curiously, reminding Rose about the welcoming ball that had been proposed.
"In the coming week. Invitations will be sent out just as soon as we've settled on a day."
"I'll need to travel to London to confirm some orders I've made and I'll escort them back to Derbyshire. Do you think the ball could be held on Friday night? That way I could set out to London on Saturday and be in London by Monday." Derek then disappeared up the stairs without another word.
"Do you see?" Stephen shook his head. "This will end up killing him. It'll put him into an early grave." He was talking to himself, and he sounded like a caring father worried for his son.
***
Derek spent the time at Pendleton Park making notes to himself, talking about the household they would hire and the number of rooms that would need revision.
Rose did learn some things about business, though. She learnt that it could suddenly turn a kind man into someone she didn't recognise. Rose knew it wasn't business, per se, but whatever it was, it was throwing Derek into his work much too hard.
Rose amused herself while at Pendleton Park by exploring the various rooms on the ground floor. She found her way into the music room. Like the other rooms in the house, it smelled of dust and all the furniture was covered with white sheets. She uncovered a harp first and ran her fingers along the strings that hadn't been played for years. Again, it was eerie to think that once upon a time a family had gathered in that room to hear and play music. Perhaps Derek and Stephen would have hired harpists and pianists to entertain the guests. She hoped so.
Rose then uncovered the piano and stifled a gasp as she marvelled at the astonishingly beautiful cherry wood pianoforte. The pink undertone to the timber made it one of the most beautiful instruments she'd ever seen. She immediately sat down, ready to play scales up the keys, but stopped just as soon as she heard it was terribly out of tune.
"Do you play, Lady Rose?"
Rose looked up from the pianoforte to see Derek standing in the doorway watching her intently. He still looked stiff, as though he hadn't relaxed from before. "Yes, I do. This instrument, however, is out of tune. Look at it though, isn't it magnificent?" She loved the feeling of heavy, ivory keys. She preferred the sound that way.
"It is very nice," he replied with a slight smile, crossing the threshold. "I never learned. I wish I had."
"My sister and I were forced to learn. It wasn't until later that I actually started to enjoy it," Rose mused, remembering the governesses of her childhood. When Emmett was away at school, she and Charlotte were a little difficult to handle.
"Was it very strict growing up here?" Derek asked, coming to lean on the top of the pianoforte. "Did you enjoy it? Were you able to enjoy your childhood?"
"Oh, yes." Rose nodded. Had not Emmett explained it all in the carriage? "I suppose it was a little strict. Charlotte and I were never allowed to attend dinners or balls until we were of age. I didn't like finishing school but Mama insisted. Husbands look upon proper young women with fondness, she says." Rose turned her nose up.
Derek chuckled. "I've encountered my fair share of proper women, Lady Rose. In my experience, they are the women who disguise themselves behind a false smile."
"We are told to smile," she informed him. "Smile and say nothing. Do not let on that you have an ounce of cleverness. What need would a man have for a clever wife?"
"One who'd actually like to have an honest and intellectual conversation or two?" Derek quipped, making Rose laugh. "You fail dismally, though, Lady Rose," Derek said after a moment. "At hiding behind a smile. I find it refreshing."
"It's a shame," Rose replied, attempting to sound mysterious. "Because you do it so well."
Derek grinned, nodding. "A talent I've come to need." He ran his hand over the shiny, cherry wood. "I apologise if I made you uncomfortable earlier. My behaviour was abhorrent. I usually am better prepared for my father's slip of the tongue."
Rose still knew it was none of her business. "I wasn't uncomfortable. I'm sorry, though, for whatever happened to you," she said sincerely.
Derek's smile shrunk to be something more genuine. "Thank you, Lady Rose. But nothing happened to me. There isn't anything I can't handle."
"Like turning this house into a hotel?"
Derek scoffed comically. "Easy as pie," he replied simply. "This is what I do. I take something ordinary and I turn it into something beautiful."
Rose immediately wondered what he would do with her, if given the chance. "But you don't experience the fruits of your labour when it's finished? You move on to your next project?"
"I experience it with the money I earn. I suppose I don't like to stay put."
She immediately knew he was lying when he said that nothing had happened to him. He was running, from what she didn't know, but he was running and using the excuse of running hotels to justify it.
"I don't travel nearly as much as you, but I like knowing I have a home to come back to with my family waiting for me," Rose said fondly.
"I have a home. Philadelphia," he retorted.
Which was why he was in England. If he was planning on spending months in Britain, how was it his home? Rose didn't say it though.
Derek laughed lightly. "I can see your counter remark on your face."
Rose blushed slightly.
"Nevertheless, I apologise. I am never short-tempered and I should not have behaved that way in front of you. My father knows exactly how to irk me, just as he does to your mother."
"Mama doesn't like anybody," replied Rose. "She and Emmett have only reconciled these past few years. I wouldn't take offense."
"Your mother has an excuse. The poor woman." Derek frowned, lines forming on his forehead.
Rose did often pity her mother. She only wished that Marie had put her anger aside when she and Charlotte were children so as to permit even a daily viewing like most aristocratic lords and ladies. Usually the children that were cared for by nannies were presented to their parents for an hour or so before dinner. But not Charlotte and Rose. Rose honestly couldn't remember seeing her parents when she was young.
Rose stood up from the piano and smoothed out her gown. "You and your father would do best to avoid Mama," Rose advised. "She is a prickly woman on a good day. Take me for example."
"Your mother is prickly towards you?" he asked in disbelief.
Rose nodded. "When she's feeling particularly sorry for herself she calls me Rosamund."
"And Rosamund is not your name?" he guessed.
"No, it is," Rose clarified. "I was named during a period when my parents were getting along, for my father's mother, a witch of a woman apparently, or so my mother says. A short time later my father betrayed my mother againand all were forbidden to call me by that name. And so I'm Rose."
"I think that Rosamund is a pretty name," Derek told her honestly. "It belongs to a very pretty woman."
Rose frowned, furrowing her brow. It was all good to run away from one's problems but it was another thing to tease. "Please don't make fun of me, sir," she insisted sadly. "It isn't nice to lie."