The house of grenville, p.1
The House of Grenville, page 1
The House of Grenville
Written By B.Green
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
THE HOUSE OF GRENVILLE
First edition. April 19, 2024.
Copyright © 2024 B. Green.
Written by B. Green.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
The House Of Grenville (Silk and Silver, #1)
Chapter 1:
Chapter 2:
Chapter 3:
Chapter 4:
Chapter 5:
Chapter 6:
Chapter 7:
Chapter 8:
Chapter 9:
Chapter 10:
Chapter 11:
Chapter 12:
Chapter 13:
Chapter 14
Chapter 15:
Chapter 16:
Chapter 17:
Chapter 18:
Chapter 19:
Chapter 20:
Chapter 21:
Chapter 22:
Chapter 23:
Chapter 24:
Chapter 25:
Chapter 26:
Chapter 27:
Chapter 28:
Chapter 29:
Chapter 30:
Chapter 31:
Chapter 31:
Chapter 33:
This Book is dedicated to all the women out there, breaking free of their own generational curses.
This book contains the following trigger warnings;
- Attempted Rape
- Murder
- Gore
- Explicit Sex
- Toxic Relationship
- British Humour
Chapter 1:
The sound of rusted metal on metal is enough to chill the bones of even the coldest of mass murderers. Yet I remember how my Dad didn’t even flinch when he was brought here to Durham Prison on my 16th birthday. My feet drag as I walk behind the other convicts' friends and family. I don’t want to be here, but I have to say goodbye because today’s the day I leave Birmingham and the Garrick name behind. Let’s get this shit show over with.
Mum had refused to come in with me, she said that she couldn’t face more than one farewell today. Her delicate disposition has only worsened over time in my Dad’s absence. Four years later she’s a shell of the woman she used to be, all the fire and light you’d expect a drug lord's wife to have was taken away in the back of the riot van with him.
As I tap my foot in the queue, I try not to think about the life sentence he gets to spend in this soul sucking place.
“Ah, Louisa Garrick, great to see you again. Is today the day?” The cheerful voice of Faridah, the prison guard still on my Dad’s payroll- calls from behind the bulletproof glass to signal that it’s my turn.
She waves me forward while writing my information on the visitors form. I smile awkwardly as I approach, ignoring the mutters from the other disgruntled visitors.
“Your Dad’s in the usual room, head straight in.” Being a Garrick has its perks: no stop and search, a private visiting room, no guards hovering around us. At least what little money my brother Frankie is making now is keeping Dad safe. It makes the guilt a little easier to swallow knowing that he has protection in the roughest prison in Britain.
I head to the side door and push it open, my Dad’s body engulfs me in an embrace before I’ve crossed the threshold.
“Hello, princess.” Dad kisses my cheek and hugs me tighter. I bury my face in him, drinking in that familiar comforting scent of his. I wonder when we’ll get this opportunity again.
“Hiya Dad, I brought your snacks!” I say, trying to sound upbeat, but he pulls a face that tells me he sees right through me. He grips each side of my face and looks me up and down with nothing but admiration in his eyes.
“So, off to the big fancy place today then. I couldn’t be more proud, you know. The first girl in our family to be educated and not just educated- going to the best school money can buy!” He rubs his hands together, the gold sovereigns on his fingers clinking as he sits down at the table in the middle of the room.
I smirk a little at my achievement as I put my backpack down on the table and pull out his favourite flavour pot noodles and spicy crisps.
“Ooo good haul this time, girl. I had that last guard sacked for refusing to let you in with the goods, the fucking prick. Can’t a man just enjoy his daughter bringing in his favourite snacks?” he chuckles as if the man’s job meant nothing to the family he probably has. I watch him rifle through the bag, pulling out his favourite packet of cigarettes.
“Oh you know how to treat your old Dad, don’t you?” He grins.
“Don’t tell mum, she’ll kill me if she finds out I’m not helping you quit. I just wanted to make sure you’re fully stocked for a while, I’m not sure when I’ll get a chance to visit with all my studies.”
He pauses and looks up at me, his face suddenly serious and deadly. “I don’t want you back here unless it’s because you’ve found a loophole in the bail conditions. You need to focus on this, Louisa, your brother’s great but he’s losing his grip on Birmingham, he’s too hot headed. I need to be out of here to protect him before he lands himself in the shit.” I nod.
“I know what I have to do,” I say a little too bluntly, the weight of my family's legacy resting on my shoulders. A legacy I want nothing to do with, but I owe him this. Guilt crashes down on me like an anvil.
The door opens and a guard comes in, he doesn’t look at me, no doubt an order he was given. “Sir, Malachi has stepped out of line again. How would you like us to proceed?” The guard stands to attention like the well seasoned soldier he is.
The name Malachi rings a bell, but there’s been so many new gangs popping up it’s hard to keep track. Maybe he’s one of his men. I wouldn’t rule that out, his grasp on Birmingham’s underbelly has grown dramatically since Dad’s sentence. He even has Frankie working for him now. If only I’d paid more attention to Frankie’s ramblings about stabbings and raids at the dinner table, his way of “working” is chaotic compared to my Dad’s. Frankie is more of a “punch now, think later” kind of guy, whereas Dad was cool and calculated when it came to unpredictable situations- like keeping his soldiers in line. Most of them abandoned us after he got sent down, leaving us to fend for ourselves against the vultures that tried to get their hands on the top spot.
To his credit, Frankie has done his best to hold it down until we can find a loophole and get Dad out, but my research can only take me so far. I’ve failed miserably to even get him granted a lower sentence. When they threatened my life, Frankie didn’t hesitate. He stepped down from the top without blinking, but now I owe it to him to help him out of the trouble he so often finds himself. Another reason to knuckle down into the books, not that I mind. Books are my sanctuary. I get to live a thousand lives far away from Birmingham and the burdens that come with being a Garrick.
My dad pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Fuck sake! Can I not have half an hour with my daughter without you lot interrupting? Bunch of silly cunts, the lot of you, not got two brain cells to put together!” he shouts and I watch the man flinch. Dad gets to his feet and rolls up the sleeves of his orange jumpsuit. “Sorry, Angel, I’ve got to go sort this before this place crumbles down.” He walks round and kisses me on the cheek again. “I’m proud of you for stepping up for the family. It doesn’t go unnoticed. Keep your head down there and remember, you’re a fucking Garrick, you don’t answer to anyone, do you understand?”
He rests his forehead against mine and I feel tears threatening to fall, not out of sadness, out of rage. I only have myself to blame for this mess. I’ve dedicated the last four years of my life to getting my Dad out of here and that dedication will only end when he is dead.
Chapter 2:
The wrought iron gates of hell were the only thing standing between our very old, dusty Ford focus and the home to the elite- Grenville University. I draw squiggly lines into the condensation of the car window to distract myself as they open in front of us.
“Are you nervous, Lou?” my Mum asks, taking her eyes off the winding road for a second to glance my way.
“No, I’ll be fine once I find my room.” I keep my answer short, my eyes fixed on the huge gothic building coming into view.
There’s no denying that this place is impressive, the pictures online not doing it any justice. A gasp escapes my lips as I take it all in. My stomach flips as I realise I’m probably going to get lost once I’m inside. I can’t think of anything more anxiety inducing than being late for a lecture, especially on the first day.
Shaking the thought away, I remind myself of the floor plans that I had spent weeks religiously studying since receiving my acceptance letter. “I’m going to miss you, you know.” I give my Mum a big smile, wondering when I’d hear her thick Birmingham accent again.
As we begin the drive up to the carpark, I do my best to avoid stares from the other students meandering around. They don’t even try to hide their disapproval as our exhaust leaves a trail of thick, black smoke behind us. Yes, we probably have the most non-eco friendly car known to man, and as we park between a Mercedes and a Rolls Royce, my cheeks heat as I realise just how noisy the car is. Any chance of blending in is now out of the question.
Mum gives me a knowing smile as the engine cuts off and drops her eyes to her lap, she clearly feels the stares too. “Do you want me to co
I place a hand on her shoulder, a silent understanding between the two of us as I give her a reassuring smile. “It’s fine. I know where I’m going, you have a long journey back anyway,” I say quietly, trying my best to hold in my need for nurturing.
She places her soft hand on my cheek and her eyes well up, I smile back, but refuse to cry. “If it’s too much, you ring me and I’ll come and get you. Remember what Frankie said, Lou, there's always a job there for you if this doesn’t work out.”
Money laundering and drug dealing? Great. I know she’s trying to be reassuring, but I can’t think of anything worse than working for my older brother. He’s one of the many reasons I decided to leave Birmingham and applied for this scholarship in the first place. There is only one way for us to leave the messy back streets of my home town, and that’s with my brain.
“I’ll call him if I need him,” I lie as I bring Mum in for a squeeze. Daydreams of Frankie showing up here with his crew flash behind my closed eyes, the tracksuits alone would be enough for anyone to stop and stare around here.
“Remember who you are, I’d hate for you to lose yourself to these posh twats.”
I huff a laugh, burying my face in her long brown hair, memorising the smell of her sweet apple perfume. I finally peel myself off her, but keep my eyes down. My throat tightens as I push back my own stupid tears. I’m well aware I’m on my way into the snake pit and that I can’t show any weaknesses here. “I’ll see you soon,” I say as I grab the heavy backpack that’s filled with my favourite annotated books. I see Mum nod out the corner of my eye and hear the sounds of her quiet sniffs as I get out of the car.
I walk to the back and pop open the boot, pulling out my little life that’s been squeezed into one suitcase. I don’t look back as I begin my walk through the sea of students towards the entrance.
As I stare up at the imposing towers, my brain giddy as facts about mediaeval architecture rush through at a thousand miles per second. A part of me is still in disbelief that something this beautiful can exist in a world like ours, let alone that I get to call this place home for the next three years.
I ignore the loud rumble of the engine starting up again, as well as the low steady beat of my Mum's 70s music as I finally walk up the steps into the building. What little confidence I had left is soon non-existent as I suddenly become all too aware of my ripped jeans and plain grey t-shirt. Looking around at everyone, I clearly didn’t get the dress code memo. Every single person here is dressed like they’re going to the races. Most women sport classy, figure-hugging, but modest, dresses. I can only spot one girl wearing trousers, but even they look like they cost twice the amount of our rent a month, if not more. Yes, it’s so clear I’m the token poor girl here.
Instead of feeding my insecurities, I turn my attention back to the building, it is, after all, the oldest university in Britain. My gaze follows the beautiful arches that frame the perpendicular style ceiling all the way to the stained glass windows, depicting various saints I can’t wait to study more on. An exuberant staircase sits in the middle of the room, the carved wooden figures that are etched into the bannister looking like the kind you get on the front of pirate ships.
“Do you think those candles are paraben free?”
The light airy voice from behind me startles me, I turn to see a very thin, very blonde, very beautiful, tall woman who looks like she’s straight out of the pages of a fashion magazine. I glance up at her, feeling smaller than 5’3” and regret wearing my old, comfy trainers as she towers over me. I can’t put my finger on her expression, it looks... friendly? “Are you talking to me?” I ask, just to clarify so I don’t make an idiot out of myself.
“Yes. Do you think the candles are paraben free? I’ve heard they’re toxic to the environment.” She smiles, okay yes, friendly.
I glance over at the highly polished candelabra sitting on a table next to a large bouquet of lilies. One of the facts I memorised from the Grenville University brochure comes out like word vomit. “Yes they are, they’re made from coconut soy wax, the only biodegradable candle wax on the market.”
She cocks an eyebrow. “How do you know that?” she asks.
“Oh, um, I read about it in the leaflet they sent out.” I swallow, wondering if I said the wrong thing.
“That’s an odd little fact to remember.” Her eyes roam to take in the rest of me, it’s not silent judgement she gives off, it seems more like curiosity.
“I have a good memory,” I say flatly.
Luckily, she smiles again and holds out her hand for me to shake. “I’m Corinthia Stanley,” she says, still beaming as I shake her hand a little too eagerly.
“I’m Louisa,” I respond, praying my palms aren’t sweaty.
“As in Louisa Garrick?”.
How does she know who I am?
“Yes,” I say tentatively.
“You’re my roommate for the next year! I got my allocation a little early.” She waves a slip of paper she’s holding in the air.
“Oh! That’s great! I haven’t gotten mine yet, I was wondering where I’d be put.” I smile back, praying she isn’t one of those mean girls that pretends to be your friend.
The noise in the entrance grows louder by the second, as more students begin to arrive, the atmosphere turning electric. Then it stops, it’s abrupt, making me wonder if I’ve suddenly gone deaf. I chance a glance at Corinthia, hoping she knows what’s going on, but her gaze is fixed at the top of the staircase. As I follow where she’s looking, I hear a gentle clicking of high heels. When the source comes into view, I regret my outfit even more. It’s Professor Daphne, in the flesh. The highest paid professor in the university, the one with all the balls. I can’t get over how much the pictures in the leaflet had done her an absolute injustice, she looks much younger than her headshot. Her ebony hair is styled the same, slicked back meticulously into a neat low bun at the back, the classy emerald green dress she wears complimenting her dark skin beautifully. This woman radiates power, and she shows that in every single step she takes.
She raises an eyebrow as she scans the crowd, coming to rest three steps from the bottom so she stands at least a foot higher than the rest of us, maybe more like two or three for me. My heart skips a beat as her gaze snags mine and it feels like she’s staring into my soul. We hold eye contact for only a moment before she continues.
The room seems to hold its breath, waiting for her to speak.
“Welcome, students, to Grenville University,” Professor Daphne starts, pausing for a moment as the crowd starts clapping. I think I hear a whistle or two accompanying it too.
“You should be proud of yourselves, you were each handpicked by our professors out of millions of applications. You are here because you are the best of the best. Among you stand the next great leaders of our country. The next ones to set foot on new planets, to find cures for deadly diseases.” A low murmur of agreement echoes throughout the students. “But... it will come at a price.” The room stills again at her change of tone. So quiet, I can hear my own heart pounding in my ears. “Grenville will help mould you into your deepest desires, but first you will be broken. Tested. Pushed to your absolute limits. Everything you think you know about the world will change.” I shuffle on the spot uncomfortably as her eyes meet mine again as she speaks that last sentence, but I force myself not to break the contact. “Now, we’ve done things a little differently this year, as usual you’ve all been sorted into various Wings in the university, based entirely on your academic achievements and personality.”
Personality? I don’t remember filling out a personality page on the application... I’d definitely remember that. Plus, if they’ve already put me with Corinthia, the most beautiful girl here, who the fuck do they think I am?
“We also opened our applications to the masses this year, allowing one student to join us from an underprivileged background with the scholarship of their dreams.”
