He pursed his lips. You’ll have to start watching your tone young lady. You have suffered a very poor education in the slump life you had with the alcoholic good-for-nothing that is your uncle and for this reason I will be more lenient, but don’t expect this to be permanent. I will arrange for a tutor to attend to your education.”
Lenient? Just looking at the man I was certain it was not a word in his vocabulary, I was also sure that his version of leniency was far lower than a decent person would assume. A tutor for my education? Did I just step into Regency England without realizing it?
“When were you born?” He asked.
“November 17th.”
He shook his head. “No, you’re born October 12th. Your mother was born November 17th.”
He nodded. “This explains it.”
“Explain what? Why change my date of birth?” It made no sense.
“It made it harder for me to find you even with all the means at my disposal and you couldn’t even comprehend the extend of my reach Esmeralda. Altering your date of birth on your birth certificate delayed me when I was looking for you. Your mother tried to cover all basis.”
“How did…” I have been raised believing I killed her, I had a hard time letting go of this guilt.
“How did she die?” I nodded, not trusting my own voice.
“She died in a car accident when you would have been about five. She was joining me at a gala outside of town, the road was icy, she was driving too fast. Speed and winter are an unforgiving combination.” He sounded so cold – there was not a hint of emotion, pain, fondness. It felt like he was talking about an article he read in the news instead of the woman he was supposed to love, the mother of his child.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you home, where you belong.”
“Where’s home?”
“Stonewood, Connecticut.”
That was too cliché for me to mock.
“And since you asked about your potential siblings, I can confirm that you have a brother, Archibald.”
I winced at the name, that was quite a mouthful.
“Don’t look offended, this was the name of your grandfather, a man with immense dignity and integrity. Your brother’s nothing but proud of the legacy his name is carrying.”
Somehow, I doubted my father’s moral compass and mine pointed in the same direction.
“Your mother picked your name. She has always been obsessed with Victor Hugo and I was magnanimous enough to grant her wish. “
Magnanimous? Right! I nodded. “Yes, I knew my mother loved Hugo,” I admitted. “My father told me stories about how-”
William sat straighter on his seat in such a fast motion I recoiled. “He is not your father.” He pointed to his chest. “I am your father; you have my eyes, Esmeralda. He’s your uncle, nothing more. I strongly advise you to reprogram your way of thinking.”
The threat was not even veiled. I pursed my lips but nodded, there wasn’t much I could do about this. “How old is my brother?”
“Seventeen,” he replied. “Actually, he is a little older than you.”
I arched my eyebrows in surprise and then frowned in anger as reality hit me. I was offended on behalf of my mother. If my brother was 17 too, it meant he’d had an affair. How horrible could this man be?
“Well I’m saying that based on the birth certificates but at the same time how accurate are they? Yours says ‘Esmeralda Rosalind Forbes, born on October 12th at 8:48pm status Stillborn and yet…” he gestured toward me, “you seem very much alive to me.”
“Esmeralda Rosalind?” I scrunched my nose. Lord, I will miss Esme Victoria.
“Based on his birth certificate your brother was born at 8:32pm so a whole 16 minutes before you.”
“16 minutes…” I whispered. “Is he?”
“Your twin, yes.”
My twin… Of all the things I could have imagined, the existence of a twin was not one of them.
“I’m counting on him to help you adapt as fast as possible, it is quite a steep learning curve, but I have faith in your abilities. You’re my child after all.”
“Does he know I exist?”
William nodded. “Yes, I informed him of this fact earlier this week, when I found out you existed.”
I knew it would be pointless to ask how my brother felt about all of this because either my father wouldn't have cared how my brother felt or my brother would have hidden his feelings.
A brother… a twin brother. I looked away, too overwhelmed by the revelation to even keep a simulacrum of conversation with my father. I had time to discover more, time to process. I wondered if Archie looked like me, if he would be happy to have a sister. He’d known I was born even if he'd thought I died. Did he ever miss me? Did he miss the mother he lost so young?
For the first time since this morning I was looking forward to reaching our destination and meeting my brother. I rested my hand on my lips, trying to hide the little smile forming at the thought of meeting my brother from my father, I didn't need him to believe it was for me.
Chapter 3
I didn't have to worry about continuing any type of conversation with my father as he picked up his phone as soon as we off the plane and didn’t put it down during the 20 minutes’ drive in the most luxurious sedan I’d ever seen.
I looked curiously at the oversized wrought-iron gates with a security guard post.
My father opened his tinted windows and a guard almost bowed as he rushed to activate the gate. Seriously, how rich was he?
The internal path taking us to the house was much more like a road with perfectly manicured greenery on each side, the estate was so big I couldn’t even see where it ended on both sides.
After a full five minutes, the car stopped and my father exited, ordering me to do the same.
“Holy shit!” I gasped as I exited and craned my neck to try and take in the gigantic red brick and stone residence, resplendent with blue diaper patterning, in front of me.
I was not an expert in architecture but it looked like a Tudor design quite similar to the house I saw in Peaky Blinders, the show my father was obsessed with. Thank you, Netflix! I thought as a pang of sadness filled me at the idea of Luke being alone. We would have had a good laugh at this house.
Did he know it? Had he ever seen it? I shook my head, willing these sad thoughts away.
The Forbes residence was an ‘L’ shape, two floors with so many windows that had mullion, stone and transom surrounds. The single-storey porch flanked by Ionic columns extended from the central bay area, and the heavy alcove-shaped doors boasted an ornate Crest with the coat of arms.
I looked up and noticed at least five chimneys, and a slate roof with actual patterns on it. That was some sick rich-man shit.
My father gestured to me to follow him.
“Ask Sophia or Henry the butler to give you a tour of the estate.” he explained with his back to me as a person who I supposed was the butler opened the heavy door.
“Welcome home, Mister Forbes, Miss Esmeralda.” He enunciated very formally, bowing his head in what seemed to be a sign of respect.
I walked in and I had to use all my willpower not to gasp like a child at the magnificence of the entrance.