The Solicitation Read online

  Alice and the three chefs simultaneously bent down slowly to observe the toast through the glass door in silence.

  “Alice Jayne Oliver,” Brayden’s voice called from across the kitchen.

  The three chefs were startled and immediately stood up and continued chopping vegetables on their nearest worktop; the very task Alice had interrupted them in not long before.

  “Father,” Alice said, as Brayden walked across his large, industrial-come-traditional kitchen with his hands in his trouser pockets. He raised his eyebrows when he reached her.

  “Gentleman, has my daughter bullied you into making cheese on toast?” he asked, still looking at Alice, although her eyes were on the oven door where she could continue observing the snack.

  “Charmed would be more like it, Sir,” the Head Chef said, glancing up at his young employer.

  “You will stay and have some won’t you?” Alice asked, turning back to Brayden.

  Brayden put his hand on Alice’s cheek and saw an innocent glimmer in her eyes he hadn’t noticed before. He smiled at her but didn’t respond.

  “I’m afraid I can’t share mine with you, father, but I’m sure they won’t mind,” Alice declared, quite seriously. She never joked about cheese on toast.

  The Head Chef soon removed the slices of gooey, cheese-topped toast from the oven at that moment and placed them on obediently waiting plates. Alice turned and walked to the nearest plate, her back to Brayden.

  “Only half a slice, darling, dinner is in just over an hour,” he said, glancing up at the kitchen clock.

  Alice turned around to face him, all but only one bite of her toast remaining on the plate. Brayden exhaled an amused breath and shook his head.

  “Enjoy your snack, gentleman,” Brayden said, as he put his hand on Alice’s back and guided her out of the kitchen a few moments later. It took twice as long to make cheese on toast as it did to devour it. And it only took about five seconds to do the latter.

  Back upstairs while Brayden waited for Alice to wash her hands in the en-suite loo, Brayden observed Celia unpacking the clothes boxes from Harriet which had been neatly stacked in front of the wardrobe.“They’re here already,” Alice said, as she emerged from the bathroom, wiping her hands on her pinafore.

  “Go and dry your hands properly, Alice. Yes, you’re going to try them on in a moment,” he said, as Celia held up one of the nightdresses. Brayden’s heart melted at the sight of it – it was so sweet and demure – and Celia thought the same as she gave Brayden a quiet look.

  Alice was soon ushered behind the folding screen by Celia and helped into the first nightdress, which buttoned all the way up the back; thus guaranteeing Alice would need help each evening. It was a very discrete, but solid, way Brayden could maintain the balance of power in his household. If Alice couldn’t physically dress herself then her independence would shift to natural dependence on him and the other staff. It was exactly how he wanted things. Alice didn’t seem to pick up on his strategic move and stood quietly whilst Celia buttoned up the back of the first nightdress.

  “It’s absolutely perfect,” he said, once she had walked out from behind the screen to show him.

  Brayden had only requested two nightdresses to be made to start with. Alice first wore an above the knee, white cotton baby doll nightdress with a row of vintage lace around the bottom. It had short ruffled sleeves and a smart peter pan collar. She stood barefoot, her pale scrawny thighs falling out from beneath where the dress stopped.

  Alice didn’t say a word because she knew the only words that she could produce would be protests. It was a small child’s nightdress and she knew it. And she knew Brayden knew it because he had designed it.

  “Turn around for me please, darling,” he said, and stepped closer. There were ten pearl buttons from the bottom of the nightdress up to the back of her neck leading up to the Peter Pan collar – which he inspected. Harriet’s seamstresses had done a phenomenal job of including every single minute detail he’d given when describing how the garment should look.

  Brayden sent Alice behind the screen to try on the second one; an identical white cotton nightdress except it had tiny red bows printed all over it. It fit the same way as the first and Brayden was again pleased with the turn out.

  “We’ve enough time to try on the last one, Celia, if you could help her into it please. I can see the dressing gown at bedtime this evening,” Brayden said, as he began to pace the room.

  Alice let her head fall backward in silent agitation but was quickly corrected as Celia propped her head back up and began to unbutton the back of the nightdress.

  Brayden favoured vintage clothing and found they had the most flattering styles and shapes for both males and females, but especially for females. He found that vintage clothing didn’t entertain low necklines and obscure slits. And his favourite of vintage styles was the sailor dress. Celia slipped the very one over Alice’s head and pulled it down and then ushered Alice to sit on the nearby Louis XV winged armchair, handing her a pair of navy blue knee socks. Alice began pulling them on without comment while Celia removed two pairs of shoes from their boxes. The first pair were the black patent leather ones Brayden had inspected earlier. The second were light brown lace-up brogues. Celia instinctively chose the patent leather shoes and unbuckled them before kneeling down to Alice. Once completely dressed Celia sent her out to show Brayden.

  “Do you like it?” Alice asked, afraid that she looked more stupid than cute. That was entirely not the case.

  The dress was straight out of his imagination; a navy blue all in one sailor dress with a waistband separating the top half of the traditional navy and white V-neck collar and neck tie, from the plethora of navy pleats that fell from beneath it. The back featured the expected navy blue bib across her shoulders with three white stripes running along the border.

  “You look like you belong at Waldorf Manor,” he said, kissing her forehead.

  Alice felt a strange glow in her chest and she smiled at Brayden, but she couldn’t bear to say anything for fear she would get emotional. Yes, he chose all of her clothes. Yes, he had the final say in everything. And yes, she looked and felt like a small child. But Brayden wasn’t horrible, or aggressive, or rude about it. He knew what he wanted and he would ensure Alice did exactly that, but he did it whilst reminding her that she was important to him. No one had ever made her feel important.

  Alice changed back into her own white shirt and tartan pinafore with the addition of one of the many new pairs of tights and finished it off with her new black patent strap shoes. Brayden wanted Alice in new clothes entirely, but it would have to wait until the following morning when she could wear her first dress. She certainly couldn't wear the same dress for dinner that evening and then all day the next. Brayden didn't condone the wearing of the same outfit two days in a row. The rest of her wardrobe would arrive later that week, in any case.

  Brayden waited for Alice to appear from behind the screen and then insisted she wash her hands and tidy her hair before they went down to dinner.

  “From tomorrow things will be different; either Celia or one of the other girls will come and do your hair properly for dinner. I’ll expect you to come down a handful of minutes before the meal is served,” he said, as they descended the stairs.

  “How many is a handful?” Alice asked, for the third time noticing that whilst Brayden was very specific about what he wanted, he could sometimes be quite vague. Alice didn’t like ‘vague’ when such a thing could get her into trouble.

  “A handful is whatever I chose it to be,” Brayden said, as they both reached the foyer and turned to continue on into the dining room.

  “But how many minutes is it?” Alice asked, a few steps behind Brayden as he led the way.

  “That’ll do, Alice,” Brayden said.

  “I need to know at what time I’m meant to be sitting down, father,” Alice said, exasperated that she had to keep on the subject. He clearly hadn’t caught on.

 
; “Yes, you are correct. I do apologise,” Brayden said, once Wellesley had seated Alice.

  Alice felt proud of herself for having gotten a genuine apology out of Brayden for something he had overlooked. She suddenly felt empowered to look for more faults, although she didn’t expect to find many.

  “Can I have orange squash tonight?” Alice asked, looking at Brayden.

  Brayden met eyes with Alice as Wellesley placed sparkling water garnished with lemon and mint at their place settings.

  “There are enough mistakes in that sentences that I shall just say ‘no’ without even thinking about it,” he said.

  “Pardon?” she asked.

  “May I please have a glass of orange squash tonight, father? Brayden said, demonstrating to Alice how he wished her to have asked.

  “Oh,” Alice said. “Well then, ‘may I please have a glass of orange squash tonight, father?’ she repeated.

  “No,” he answered, pointing to one of three bottles of red wine Wellesley had displayed on the mobile silver trolley. Wellesley proceeded to pop the cork whilst Brayden turned back to Alice.

  “Why?” she asked, frowning.

  “Because we do not stock orange quash, but namely, because I said so.”

  “It’s only squash,” Alice said, quietly.

  “And you are only learning,” Brayden said, giving her a rather serious look.

  Alice bit her tongue and managed to enjoy the Pellegrino for what it was despite it tasted nothing like orange squash. Brayden enjoyed two glasses of vintage wine and Alice had to avoid looking at it too much. Having been legal to drink for a day already, she would have liked her first taste to be of proper wine. She didn’t bother asking because she knew Brayden would never allow it.

  “I’d like to have a word with you, Alice,” Brayden said, when they had finished dinner and dessert and were leaving the dining room. “We’ll go up to the study,” he said, leading the way.

  Alice sat down in the familiar place across from where Brayden sat behind his desk, wondering if she was in trouble.

  “Earlier when I found you in the kitchen -” Brayden began.

  “I’m sorry, I hadn’t meant to annoy the chefs,” Alice said, quickly interrupting Brayden.

  “Go and face the wall until I tell you to come out. It’s extremely rude to speak over the top of me,” he said, pointing to the wall over a hundred feet from his desk. Alice gave him a solemn look and slowly stood up.

  “Respond properly, first,” he added.

  “Yes, Sir,” she said, and then turned and obeyed.

  “Stand up straight, put your hands on your head,” he said, when he realised she was a bit sloppy about it. Brayden couldn’t resist walking over to Alice.

  “Whenever you face the wall you will do so standing up straight with your hands folded on top of your head. Look at the wall. No shifting your weight,” he said, standing beside her for a moment.

  Alice was put off by his hovering presence whilst she was serving her punishment and she had to fight to keep from telling him so. Brayden stayed until he was sure she would remain as he told her to, and then returned to his desk. After ten minutes he called Alice back to her seat.

  “Let’s try this again shall we?” he started. “Earlier when I found you in the kitchen, I called out the name your mother gave you at birth, Alice Jayne Oliver. I’m uncomfortable calling you the very name a woman who has since showed little or no affection. You are my daughter now, and I wish you to have my last name,” he said. Brayden felt very strongly about it and whilst he had no intention of considering protests, he knew he couldn’t make the decision without her knowing.

  “Are you going to change my entire name?” Alice asked.

  “I wish to alter your middle and last name. Your mother gave you the name of Alice and that shall remain. But I also now have a say in the matter,” Brayden said.

  “I don’t really know what to say, Sir,” she said.

  “Would you feel bitter toward me if I took this decision forward?” Brayden asked, placing his thumb beneath his chin and his index finger along his cheek.

  Alice was quiet for a moment and her eyes seemed to search an imaginary word puzzle on Brayden’s leather-topped desk.

  “Not bitter,” Alice said, as if hinting that she would feel something but he hadn’t quite guessed the right word for what it was.

  “Tell me,” he said.

  “I guess I’m just still adjusting to the fact that my Mum doesn’t even know I’m here, and that she isn’t in my life anymore it seems. And that you’re my father,” she said, looking down at the skirt of her pinafore and tracing a pattern onto it.

  “Alice,” he said, and signalled for her to follow him across the study to the large sofa near the fireplace. Brayden sat down in the leather wing chair adjacent from where Alice perched on the edge of the deep Chesterfield. It was the same place he had delivered her first spanking the day before.

  “It is very important to me that you are happy here. I meant what I said when I told you that I am to become your father,” he started. Alice looked up at him with pleading eyes.

  “How do I know that you won’t leave too?” she asked.

  Brayden felt a lump in his throat and he quickly dismissed it for the sake of acknowledging Alice’s fears.

  “Come here,” he said, gently. Alice stood up at his feet and he pulled her onto his lap, much to her surprise. Brayden placed her sideways and put his arms around her waist.

  “I always keep my promises,” he said, meeting her eyes and continuing from her previous question.

  “But you never promised,” Alice said, quietly.

  “I gave you my word and that is the same as a promise. My word is what has kept every member of staff in this house, some for more than a decade. It was my father’s word and now it is mine,” he said.

  Alice’s eyes visibly widened. That meant that none of them had paper contracts. It also meant that there was an incredible amount of trust on both sides. Alice longed to experience such trust.

  “Do you understand what I’m saying?” he asked, tucking a small layer of hair behind her ear.

  “Yes, Father,” she answered quietly.

  “I wish to give you a middle name that is special to me, perhaps a second that I may choose, and for you to share my last name because you are my daughter. It’s an outward sign that I have made a commitment and taken responsibility for you. It also means that you will inherit should anything happen to me,” Brayden said.

  Alice wanted to let her mouth drop open; the word inherit to someone from a council estate was impressive enough. But the same word, coming from a young man who was a multi-millionaire, who accepted her as his own and directing it at her, was life changing. Perhaps it was how he said it to her in the intimacy of a private moment, behind his closed study door, doting on her as if she had always been his own, that it meant so much to her. Had Brayden spoken such words down in the dining room one evening they would have held a lot less weight. He wasn’t declaring such things for anyone else but Alice to hear. She couldn’t think of any words that would adequately thank him and equally question his continual loving support. It was confusing. Didn’t every measure of love have conditions? Brayden’s didn’t seem to.

  Alice threw her arms around his neck and lay against him, beginning to cry. Brayden wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closed to him, her legs dangling over the wooden floor below. Her white tights contrasted perfectly with her shiny new black patent leather shoes.

  Brayden held Alice for a long time as her tears drifted between heavy and light and then heavy again. It was clear she was working through things in her mind and emotions that hadn’t been properly dealt with prior to that moment. Brayden didn’t want to rush her and he knew if she didn’t put in the effort to heal she would never move on; not at Waldorf Manor as his daughter or as anyone in the future who would carry on his namesake.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Alice Kathryn Lillias James.”
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  Alice looked at herself in the mirror as she said it. Kathryn. That had been Brayden’s mother’s name. ‘Lillias’ was the second middle name Brayden chose for her.

  It had only been a week since Alice moved in with Brayden and she already had a new wardrobe, new manners, a new name and a father. Brayden’s solicitor had provided the necessary paperwork for him to legally state he was adopting Alice into his family formally, which not only meant she could and would inherit, but in pesky situations whereby doctors might ask, “are you family?” Alice could honestly say that she was. Brayden couldn’t abide not doing the entire thing properly. Alice signed the forms required by law to acknowledge an ‘adult adoption’ and then promptly returned to her place as Brayden’s young daughter.

  There was no announcement about the adoption despite Brayden initially wanting to let everyone in his circle know and introduce her to them, but he was concerned some of them would assume he meant that Alice was also ‘available.’ Alice was under no circumstance available to court or to date or to even be looked at. Brayden knew a few chaps off the top of his head who once they saw Alice would probably get themselves obsessed over her, regardless of age perception. Brayden simply couldn’t deal with such circumstances, but especially not after he had only just found her.

  Brayden wasn’t shy about saying Alice was his daughter and mentioned it in several conversations about the house and when he was on the telephone. There were a few surprised reactions of acquaintances wondering how he had managed to acquire such a relation seemingly overnight. When they asked how old she was he responded, “Alice is ten years old.” Should anyone be invited for dinner they wouldn’t think otherwise.

  Alice knew she was to carry on being the age Brayden told her she would; not because he was aroused by such things, but because he meant what he had said when he said she simply couldn’t operate as any properly raised eighteen-year-old of his would be expected to. It wouldn’t be fair to tell his friends so – they would probably not only be surprised, but put off to think the Brayden James allowed a girl with an obvious lack of grace and social etiquette at such an age to reside under his roof. His own friends had been admonished for lesser things. Therefore, to lighten the blow for all concerned, he was allowing both himself and Alice to have lighter expectations and to cover ground that had been lost in Alice’s childhood with her mother. Eventually Alice would catch up to where Brayden expected her to be.