Page 27 of Unlikable

Father is suffering from amnesia. That is one thing that is certain. His broken arm has since healed, but whether he will ever regain his memory is a question the doctor unfortunately cannot answer.

I am broken. Over-tired and sad. After five weeks of hardly moving from Father’s side, Everett forced me to take a day’s rest. I didn’t want to, but I also couldn’t bear to hear my father screaming at me any longer. Asking who I was, why I was holding him captive. Where Mary was and why Mary didn’t come to get him.

Since the accident, I have no tears left. I feel like I want to cry, but nothing comes out of me. Even when Father ranted at me like that, I remained calm. Everett, on the other hand, has been weeping like a child. I comforted him, had to tell him it will be all right, even though I don’t even know if it will ever be all right.

I sit in the reception room and stare ahead at the crackling logs in the fireplace decorated with Christmas wreaths and candles. The whole house is decorated to celebrate, but no one seems to feel like it after Theodor Clifton’s death.

His funeral took place three days after we returned. Felix arranged it all himself, with the help of Mrs Jones. She was extremely supportive of the whole event. She helped send out the obituaries, arranged the service, received the guests and made sure everything went off without a hitch. When the service was over and I woke up the next day, there was nothing to show that the man of the house had been buried the day before. Everyone went about their business as usual. Mrs Jones made sure of that.

Felix has closed himself off from everything and everyone. He doesn’t even want to see Jonathan. I wonder if that is because he is still angry about his best friend betraying him or because he just has no strength to talk, to laugh.

As angry as I still am with him, it breaks my heart to see Felix like this. I have made several attempts to talk to him. On the day of the funeral, I stood next to him and held his hand. He allowed that, and he had looked at me gratefully but said nothing. After the funeral, he retreated to Theodor’s study and only came out to eat very early in the morning and late in the evening. As if he no longer wanted to be seen.

I myself suffer through sleepless nights. I dream about the accident, again and again and again see the coachman falling from the cliff. See Theodor’s body before me, though in my dreams he no longer has eyes. The nightmares keep increasing, and if Everett had not sent me out today, away from Father, I am sure I would have collapsed. In the reception room, I fell asleep. By now it is almost midnight, and I am looking at the fireplace, which keeps me warm and seems to suppress the dangers outside.

How did it happen? How did that accident happen? Was it the rain that made the carriages slip, causing them to collide? Was it Theodor’s revenge because Father wanted to set fire to our house so no one could get it anymore?

So many questions, so few answers.

There is a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I hear myself say sleepily, then I turn myself over in the seat and watch Jonathan open the door.

“Milady,” he says, nodding at me. He continues to wait in the doorway.

“Jonathan,” I say back.

Jonathan smiles his beautiful smile, his whole face lighting up. “I wanted to talk to you, if that is all right and the time is convenient for you.”

I gesture to the seat diagonally in front of me, the one closest to the fireplace.

He walks into the room, closes the door behind him and when he sits down, he looks at the Christmas decorations. “It’s strange, Christmas without Mr Theodor Clifton.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I admit honestly. “I’ve never spent a Christmas with him.”

“They were always nice days.” Jonathan sinks a little further into the seat and crosses his legs. “Theodor is, was , working a lot and travelling all over town and country and then making sure he was back home by Christmas. For Felix and Isadora, his wife.”

I feel a knot forming in my stomach. “Did they actually have a good relationship with each other?”

Jonathan seems to have to think for a moment. “A special bond, I think that’s a better way to describe it. When I moved in with them and Mrs Clifton was still alive, the family was very attached to each other. When she passed away two years ago, Father and son became inseparable. Until something happened that left Mr Clifton in financial trouble. I won’t go into that too much, but it caused Mr Clifton to see his son more as a business partner than his child. He used Felix to win contracts, but that never really worked. Felix is not a businessman.” Jonathan smiles. “He is an artist.”

“He draws, right?” I think back to the conversation I had with Felix and feel the blood rise to my cheeks as I remember what he likes to draw.

“He’s extremely good at it.” Jonathan nods. “Designing things, architecture, drawing…Felix is talented enough. His father took advantage of that, and Felix was too blinded by joy to see that he was being taken advantage of. He was so proud and happy when he discovered he could mean something to Theodor. That he had a purpose and could be of use.” Jonathan breathes out a sigh. “He only found out he was part of shady business when he was already too deep into it.”

I sit down a little straighter in the seat. “What do you mean? Didn’t Felix know what his father was doing then?”

“Theodor Clifton struck a deal in which he lost almost everything. A wrong investment, which made him sign his own bankruptcy. Apparently, the only way out that he saw was to do the same to others, squeeze people financially. Felix was the reliable and handsome face who would help him do that. He lied to his son, made Felix believe they were working on something together and made Felix feel important.”

“That’s terrible. How can a father do that to his son?”

“I think, like me, you know what money can do to someone,” Jonathan replies. He turns a little more towards me and smiles sadly. “Felix told me everything; he’s been doing that all his life. He felt guilty, but he was too happy that his father finally saw him as an equal. He saw how proud he made his father, so he could not disobey him, even though he felt more guilty by the day. As a result, he sought his solace in drink and women.” Jonathan seeks my gaze. “Until recently.”

I feel my heart begin to beat faster. “Until recently?”

“However much Felix did his best to help his father out of financial difficulties, Mr Clifton was now so much in debt that even with Felix’s help, the problems would not be solved. Theodor therefore sought his last salvation from you, Miss Prime. From you and your father. The rest of the story is familiar to you by now.”

“That’s right,” I say softly.

“And Felix is going to kill me if he finds out I’m telling you this, but I have to tell you because I haven’t seen him so happy as since he met you.”

Boom, boom, boom.

Boom, boom, boom.

Jonathan looks at the fireplace again. “Until recently, he was just drinking away his sorrows and worries. Went to…special parties to clear his mind. Since the moment he bumped into you on the train, he hasn’t talked about anything but you. Even though he spoke mostly out of frustration, I noticed he wanted to talk about you. You intrigued him. You made him…live again. Act like a young man with feelings again. When he was with you, he forgot the heavy burden on his shoulders. It gave me back my best friend, and for that I am immensely grateful to you.”

“Felix was always blunt with me,” I remind Jonathan.

“Felix showed emotion with you,” he responds, still looking at the fire. “And since he worked with his father, I have seen almost no emotion in him. Not heard him talk so passionately about anything or anyone anymore.”

I look at my finger, where the ring was until recently. “I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me, Jonathan.”

“He never wanted this,” he says softly. “Lying to you and your family is something that gnawed at him from the moment he met you.”

“He could also have been honest.”

“He could have been,” Jonathan admits. “But his father blackmailed him with the fact that if Felix did not cooperate, I would be sent away.”

I slap a hand in front of my mouth and feel a stab in my heart on hearing those words. Theodor Clifton blackmailed his own son. He knew Jonathan was too important to Felix and used that against him.

“I’m afraid he’ll lose himself if he stays in that room any longer, my lady,” Jonathan says, and he looks at me again. His gaze serious, urgent. “He does not want to speak to me. He is angry with me, and I understand that. However, I also know that he is grateful to me that this secret has come to light. That he has been freed from a lie that plagued him so much.”

“Then why doesn’t he want to see you?”

“Because he’s embarrassed.” Jonathan lets out a weary sigh. “He’s so stubborn.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” I grin.

Jonathan grins back. Then he looks at me seriously again. “Do you want to go and talk to him? Try to forgive him?”

I don’t know what to say. Do I want to? Can I forgive him? I feel terrible about what happened to him, what was done to him. Yet he has lied to me and therefore broken my heart. “I don’t know if I…” I start, but I stop my sentence when Jonathan gets up and pulls out a small book from the inside pocket of his jacket and hands it to me.

“The choice is yours,” he says almost soundlessly. Then he makes a half bow. “I apologise for perhaps catching you off guard with all this. I will leave you alone now.” He turns, then walks back to the door.

“Jonathan!” I call out quickly.

He turns to me. “My lady?”

“I…” I get up and press the booklet against me. “I want to thank you for your honesty and friendship.”

“That’s gladly done, my lady.”

“But also because you make my brother happy,” I admit. I smile at him, from the bottom of my heart. “Thanks, Jonathan.”

He smiles back, and I see his pretty face turn slightly red. Then he takes another bow, after which he leaves the room.

I am left alone with the crackling fireplace and the little book, still unknown to me, in my hands. I sit back down and curiously study the cover of dark-blue leather. When I open it, I am overwhelmed by drawings of naked women. Immediately, I slam the book closed again and put it beside me. I feel all the blood rise to my head.

What on earth…

But Jonathan doesn’t strike me as the person to make me feel deliberately uncomfortable. He must have his reasons.

I look at the booklet again, which seems to be screaming at me to pick it up again. It doesn’t take me long to flip through the drawings again. After the fifth sketch, I notice how talented Felix really is. His fine way of sketching consists of rough lines, many lines, that together form a whole. It is genuinely fascinating to see how he manages to capture a woman’s beauty with just a few strokes of kohl.

I catch myself getting more jealous with each sketch. With each woman—and it is also a different woman each time—I wonder who she is and what she meant to Felix. Some have even bigger bosoms than others and some drawings I skip more quickly because I become insecure about how beautiful these women are.

And then I stop browsing.

The page my eyes linger on is a sketch of me. This one has more detail than the other sketches in the book. The fine lines show me standing on the balcony. I stand with my back to the viewer and look dreamily sideways. My hair hangs loose and seems to dance around me.

The following sketch is also one of me. Here I am standing in front of my own house. Around me, people are drawn, and it reminds me of the day we moved. The people around me are blurred, making me stand out in my travelling cloak. I have a soft glow in my eyes, which makes it look like I am crying, but it is not disturbing. The emotion I felt when I left our house that day is captured perfectly.

The drawing that follows is also one of me. So is the drawing after that. The rest of the booklet is filled with sketches of…me.

The last one is unfinished. I can see the first rough lines, suggesting how I am dancing in a pub. Although this sketch is not finished, I can immediately see the emotion he was trying to capture on paper.

In my mind’s eye, I picture Felix sitting in his late father’s room. Alone. Suddenly I feel so incredibly guilty for not doing my best to comfort him. For leaving him sitting outside on the carriage when he tried to talk to me. I didn’t even give him a chance to defend himself, to let him tell his story.

I get up from the sofa, fold the booklet and press it against my heart. I stare at the fireplace, seeing memories of him flash past me. Our meeting on the train. Our first conversation in my room. Us together, running hand in hand, on the run from Junior R. Our conversation in the rain when he had fallen so ill. His proposal to me, how his eyes had sparkled with excitement.

The day in Kennington. Dancing together in the pub.

I am a fool for only now considering the possibility that he might feel more for me than just friendship after all.

Determined, I walk towards the door. When I am outside in the corridor, I start walking faster. I’m not running, but it’s getting close.

Blindly, I find my way to Theodor Clifton’s office. I see the people passing me on the way as vague apparitions, do not perceive them clearly. One thing is important to me at the moment. No, not one thing.

Him.

When I want to turn the office doorknob, it does not yield.

I jerk the knob as if my life depends on it, holding the booklet in one hand. “Open up,” I whisper. “Felix.”

No response.

I give another tug on the doorknob, but it is useless. “I know you can hear me, Felix Clifton!” I start to shout. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a chambermaid watching me curiously. I knock on the door. And again. Again, again and again and again. “Felix!”

When no answer comes, I take a step back, defeated. I hear my own breathing. Am aware myself of my heart beating faster than normal. I inhale deeply, and when I exhale, I hear a soft but welcome “click”.

The door opens. I walk in, almost knocking Felix over. The door is closed and locked again. Standing in front of the large oak desk, I turn to face him.

Felix looks at me, irritated. Something that no longer surprises me and makes me feel immensely relieved. He is still the same Felix, with all his imperfect perfect irritations. “My goodness, who taught you your manners?” he snarls.

He looks like he hasn’t slept for days. His hair has grown longer and reaches to his shoulders. It is tangled and looks slightly greasy, but that does not make him any less beautiful.

I hold up the booklet. I see his eyes slide to it.

“How did you…”

“What is this?” I ask, gasping.

Felix is silent.

I move the book in the air. “How do you feel about me, Felix?”

He looks at me for a long time, so long that I begin to doubt myself. Have I understood correctly? Have I been deluding myself?

Slowly, I lower my arm again. The cover of the book scrapes softly along the sleeve of my dress. “I’m sorry,” I bring out in embarrassment, suddenly painfully aware of my behaviour. He is in the middle of a grieving process, and I am selfish enough to ask what his feelings are for me. Something his head is obviously not at all in the right place for at the moment. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I can’t make up for what I did,” he interrupts me. He runs a hand through his hair, which consequently stands up like a pencil. I would have found it funny if the situation hadn’t been so fraught. “I want to explain to you why I did it, but all the reasons I have feel like weak excuses.”

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” I say and lean back against his father’s desk. I feel that if I don’t, I will collapse at the sight of his sad expression.

Felix finds support against the door and closes his eyes, then exhales deeply. “Where did you get my sketches?”

“From Jonathan.”

“Of course.”

“They are very…special.”

Now he opens his eyes again and looks at me piercingly. “Did you see them all?”

“All of them.”

“You must think I’m a bastard now.”

“I thought so for some time.” I feel myself grinning.

Felix smiles a half smile, and it is the most beautiful thing I have seen in days. “What I feel for you is no longer relevant,” he finally says, and his smile fades again.

“Of course it is.”

“I can’t give you anything, Eleonora. We are bankrupt.” He looks around and gestures at the walls. “For the past few weeks, I have been trying to think of a solution, but we have nothing left. Father didn’t keep records particularly well, and even if he had, there wasn’t much to keep track of.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” I ask softly.

“To reprimand me. That’s what you’re good at, at least.”

“If you carry on like this, that’s definitely something I’m going to do.” I put the booklet on the desk behind me. “I won’t bother you any longer. It was stupid of me to ask such a question, especially in this situation.” I force myself to walk forward, towards the door, which he is still leaning against.

Felix seems to have no intention of stepping away from the door. Instead, he keeps an emphatic eye on me. When I stand in front of him, he straightens his shoulders. “What I feel for you is a question to which I have no answers because the answers I will give you will not be satisfactory enough.”

I force myself to keep looking at him. “Please try, please.” My voice is nothing more than a whisper.

At first he says nothing, then he takes a step away from the door, in my direction. He is now standing so close that I can see the three tiny birthmarks on his right cheek. They remind me of some kind of constellation. “You are stubborn, insufferable and arrogant.”

That starts well.

“Maybe I was wrong after all,” I say gruffly.

“But I don’t know anyone like you, Eleonora Prime.” He keeps looking at me so sternly with those green eyes of his that I feel my legs go limp. “There is no woman in the world who knows how to drive me up the wall like you do and at the same time make my heart work overtime. Call me a fool if I gave you the idea that friendship was my intention from the beginning. Call me silly if I behaved like an asshole again.”

I open my mouth to tell him it doesn’t matter. That I have forgiven him almost for everything. That he can hurt me a hundred times, if it means I can keep seeing him.

But he takes my face between his hands and brings his head closer to mine. Our foreheads touch, and I feel an electric spark enter my body. I am on fire.

“In the beginning, I confused my feelings with hatred and irritation,” he continues in a heavy tone. His breath tickles against my nose. “And once I realised what you really meant to me, what I feel for you, I thought I had wasted my chance. I was the annoying housemate, the troublemaker, the misbehaving son. I offended you on every possible level, and I am deeply sorry for that. It still gnaws at me every day, and I curse myself for making you sad, making you doubt yourself.”

“Felix…”

He rubs my cheeks with his thumbs, his other fingers braiding my hair. “When you accepted my proposal, I was the happiest man on earth. I thought you said “yes” to my arguments, not to me. I didn’t want to ruin it, so I made sure I didn’t give you a reason to break off the engagement. I promised you friendship; I gave it to you. Afterwards…” He pulls back slightly, which allows him to look into my now moist eyes. He smiles faintly. “In hindsight, that was a big mistake, but no worse than the fact that I lied to you about the reason for the engagement. Yes, it came from my father. Yes, it was part of the plan, but for me it was no longer part of the plan. For me, it was a chance to be able to call you my wife.”

I don’t know what I’m hearing. As his words begin to sink in, I feel myself getting light-headed. I hear myself whisper his name again, but I have no idea what I want to say.

“And now I blew it, like the stupid idiot I am. I’ve hurt you. You hate me, and I see no reason why you should forgive me. I’m too late, and that…that’s my own fault.” His fingers start trembling, and I feel him want to pull away, but I reach for his hands and press them against me.

“You screwed up big time,” I bring out shakily.

Am I sweating now?

Felix’s eyes get big, as if my words frighten him.

“But I don’t hate you and you’re not too late.”

Neither of us says anything after that. The air seems to grow warmer. I suddenly find myself intensely aware of my hands holding his against me. I see his full eyebrows, his glossy eyes, his straight nose and finally his inviting lips. I stare at them, wondering what it would be like to caress them with mine.

Felix gently pulls his hands out from under mine, and just when I think all this is in vain and I am the most naive woman walking the earth, he puts his hands on my neck and pulls me towards him.

His lips on mine can hardly be called a touch. It feels as if he is waiting for my approval, as if he is putting the choice in my hands. With one hand he caresses the hairs on my neck, with his other he tenderly clasps my face. Time seems to freeze. It feels like this moment was made for us.

I bring my hands up and press them against his chest. I push him backwards, against the door. This separates our faces, and I search his gaze. He looks at me expectantly, a blissful twinkle appearing in his eyes, which then slide to my lips.

I feel myself smile as I tiptoe and press myself against him. My fingers weave into the fabric of his shirt and my breathing falters in my throat as I feel his lips on mine again.

Felix Clifton literally takes my breath away.

Our bodies seem to melt together with each kiss and caress. I deepen the kiss and hear myself moan slightly as he moves his hands to my lower back and presses me closer to him.

I could never have imagined that kissing someone would feel like losing myself completely in them. That the world beneath my feet would feel like it had more solidity to stand on, that he would be my rock. Felix is my oxygen and more. Felix is…

He moves his lips to my neck and starts making a whole trail of slow and longing kisses there. I open my eyes because I am so amazed that this gesture seems to set me on fire once again. I am only aware of his hands, his body against mine and his lips on my skin. The world around me no longer seems to exist. I close my eyes again to cherish this moment, storing it in my memory so that I will never forget it.

The clock in the room begins to strike. It sounds far away, but I smile because I never thought Christmas Eve would end like this: happily.