“Good morning, madam, sirs. If you’d care to follow me?” he asks in a well-to-do British accent, stepping back and holding a steady arm out to indicate that we come in.
I step inside the brightly lit entrance hall, loving the bright and airy feel, the old Victorian, black and white tiles shining, and the pale, lemon-coloured walls covered in mirrors and some landscape paintings.
“This way, please, Mrs Vanderbilt,” the butler says, and I startle at the name. I mean, I know that it’s my surname now, but, I guess I’m just not used to it yet from anyone other than my Knights.
“Sure,” I reply, following next to him, Ash holding my hand on the other side and the others following behind us. “What’s your name?” I ask, needing to fill the silence with chatter as my heart rate picks up with every step that we take.
“Jefferies, ma’am,” he says, dipping his head in respect which feels all kinds of weird. “I’ve been with the Rochesters since your mother was a baby.” He drops that small bombshell with a wistful smile, a faraway look in his eyes. He pauses when he realises that I’ve stopped walking. “Ma’am?”
“Oh, um, sorry,” I rush out, Ash squeezing my hand and giving me a small reassuring smile as I start walking again. “I’d, um, love to hear any stories you have one day, Jefferies,” I tell the old man, who beams back at me.
“I’d be honoured to share them with you, ma’am,” he tells me, stepping towards a door on the right and reaching to open it. I place my hand on his arm, his head coming up to look at me with a quizzical, fuzzy, grey brow raised.
“It’s Lilly,” I tell him. “Please call me, Lilly.”
His chin wobbles slightly like this is some great honour too.
“Your grandparents are waiting for you in here, Lilly,” he tells me softly, and I release his arm as he starts to open the door. “They are so excited to meet you. All of you,” he adds with what I would describe as a mischievous smile at the guys.Huh.
I’m momentarily blinded by the sunlight that streams from the room that we step into, and it takes several blinks for my eyes to get used to it. When I can finally see again, I see an elderly couple standing in the middle of the room, her hands clasped in a firm grip in front of her, his hand on her shoulder. I take them in, from their kind, lined faces, to her twinset, and perfectly set hair, and then to his dapper, fitted suit and moustache.
“Lilly, darling?” she says in a thick voice, stepping towards me. Her movements are like a little bird, she looks so small and fragile standing in the streaming sunlight, dust motes surrounding her like a halo. “You look so much like her,” she adds, reaching me and stretching out a hand as if to cup my face, but then pauses, looking a little unsure.
“Grandma?” I whisper, seeing a familiarity in the shape of her face, and the thickness of her grey hair.
“Oh, darling girl,” she murmurs back, her eyes glistening, and without thought, I let go of Ash’s hand and step into her embrace, the scent of violets engulfing me as I wrap my trembling arms around her and hug her tight. Her thin arms go around me, encasing me in her loving embrace, and it reminds me so much of my mum that I burst into tears, sobs wracking my body as she holds me tighter to her. “My darling, darling girl,” she whispers, stroking my hair and planting kisses on the top of my head. “You’re back now, that’s all that matters.”
I feel another set of arms envelop us, and I look up with tears still running down my face to see my grandfather’s cheeks wet as he holds us both. He leans down to kiss my cheek, mumbling in my ear, “Welcome home, Lilly.”
Clearly not wanting to miss out on the reunion, my baby gives a mighty kick, causing my grandma to let out an oomph sound. She pulls back, looking down at my rounded stomach.
“Harold, oh, Harold, look!” she exclaims, more tears dripping down her cheeks as she laughs and places a hand over my baby. “We’re going to be great grandparents! Oh, you clever, clever girl!”
I laugh as my grandfather loosens his arms and steps back to have a look, his face wreathed in smiles too. “And who’s the lucky father?” he asks, looking behind me, and I can’t help the slight cringe at the question. I’m not ashamed about our unconventional relationship, just the thought of trying to explain it to my newly-found grandparents…eek.
“I am, Mr. Rochester,” Loki steps forward, hand out to shake my grandfather’s.
“Congratulations, son,” Harold says, pumping Loki’s hand enthusiastically. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr Vanderbilt.”
“I’m Mr Vanderbilt, Lilly’s husband,” Ash says, holding out his hand, and I bite my lips together at the confusion on the old man’s face. Harold drops Loki’s hand and automatically takes Ash’s, shaking it with a befuddled frown on his face.
“Ash is my husband, Loki, Jax, and Kai are my…” I pause, trying to think of what to call them. Boyfriends doesn’t feel like it adequately describes our relationship. “Soulmates. They’re all my soulmates.”
My grandfather’s grey eyebrows go almost into his receding hairline, his eyes wide.
“Oh, don’t look like that, Harold,” my grandmother scolds, finally letting me go and stepping towards the guys. “Have you forgotten the Woodstock of sixty-eight?”
“Petunia!” my grandfather exclaims, a blush tinting his cheeks as he looks at his wife. She just gives him an innocent yet calculating look, one perfect, silver brow raised. Loki looks on amused, while I can’t help wondering what she might be referring to. The nineteen-sixties were wild according to all the stories, a time of sexual freedom.
“Let he who is without sin, my love,” she tells my grandfather, placing a gentle kiss on his lined cheek, grasping his arm in her hands. He looks down at her with such love that my heart swells, feeling like it’ll break free from the confines of my chest.
He looks back up, taking in each of the guys in turn with a serious look.
“You take care of her? All of you?” he asks, tone firm and unwavering. I’m suddenly hit with the thought that he's asking out of concern for my well-being, that he would take them all on if their answer isn’t satisfactory. Warmth suffuses my limbs at having more people in my corner.
“With our lives,” Ash tells him solemnly, not breaking his gaze until my grandfather looks at Loki.
“And our hearts,” Loki declares, and there goes my own heart again, trying to escape once more.