Hannah. (Van Den Bosch #7)

Chapter 6

6

Hannah

The week has sped past in a blur, each day melding into the next. It’s as if Monday morning's alarm heralded a rapid sprint through classes, tasks, and brief coffee breaks, all cascading one after the other without pause. The hours slipped away unnoticed, filled with a constant stream of activity that left little room to catch my breath. It feels as though I’ve just blinked, and the week is already waving goodbye, leaving me to wonder where all that time has actually gone. Now, it’s Friday morning, and I’m sorting through my desk, which has a multitude of textbooks strewn about. Outside, the campus buzzes with life, and I’m deep into my art history notes when my phone vibrates. It’s Astrid, her name glowing on the screen. Upon answering, her joyful voice cheers me up. “Hey, girl! How's your day shaping up?”

“Oh, you know, the usual college madness,” I reply, trying to sound breezy despite the whirl of nerves in my stomach.

I haven’t seen her since the night of the exhibit, when I discovered that she was dating Johan. For some reason, I fear she’ll find out about my past with him or our almost kiss in the back of the Uber.

As far as I can tell, Astrid seems oblivious as her laughter dances through the phone. “I have a proposition for you. How about ditching the chaos of college life for the weekend? I’m putting together a croquet match at my parents. The forecast says clear blue skies—a rare treat around these parts. Thought you might be interested.”

Her words paint a vivid scene in my mind—rolling green fields, the scent of flowers, the click of croquet mallets. It feels like a page torn out of a storybook.

I hesitate, torn between Astrid's warmth and thoughts of Johan lingering in my mind. “That sounds amazing. I just...I’m not sure. I’ve got so much to study, you know?”

“I get it,” Astrid says, her voice full of understanding. “But I'd love for you to come. It’s a chance to unwind and forget college stress for a bit. And I promise, it'll be a blast. Let me know, okay? We leave at five. It’s a two-hour drive, so we’ll get there on time for dinner.”

I agree, promising to mull it over, but the image of that idyllic weekend stays with me. It does sound amazing….

Well, I still have some time to decide. Since I have a class today, I grab my bag and leave the dorm. The sunlit morning paints the campus in hues of gold, casting long shadows across the historic stones. Students bustle past, their chatter blending with the crisp breeze.

I weave through the maze of it all, still struck by the architecture and history of this place. I wonder if I will ever get used to it.

In the lecture hall, I turn over the possibility of going to Astrid’s parents’ in my mind. She didn’t mention anything about Johan being there, so that’s a plus. I do still feel a little bit like I’m deceiving her by not telling her about my family or personal history with Johan, but that’s because he wanted to pretend we were strangers. It wasn’t my call; I was just playing along.

The truth is, I want to invest in my friendship with Astrid, and inviting me back to her family home is a good sign. It all but confirms to me that she really does enjoy my company and isn’t just having me around because she feels sorry for me or something.

Well…okay. It does sound fun, and I could use the chance to unwind. When the professor pauses for a few moments to take a drink, I pull my phone out and send Astrid a message, my mind made up.

Hey Astrid, I’m in for this weekend! See you at five! I press send, sealing my commitment to the plans we've made.

It feels good. I’m sure I’ve made the right choice. Just as I exhale in relief, my phone buzzes again, capturing my attention. Anticipating Astrid’s reply, I glance at the screen, only to find Johan’s name blinking back at me. Surprise jolts through me.

I'll be free between 3 and 4 pm. Would you like to pass by my department for a chat? his message reads.

Wow. Okay. I can’t deny that I’m curious, and of course, that magnetic pull between Johan and me makes me want to agree… but I’ve just accepted an invitation to spend the weekend with the girl he’s dating, which makes things a bit more complicated. On one side, I want to stop by to talk about Amelia, but on the other, I still need some time to sort out my feelings.

My fingertip hovers indecisively over the screen. Just a few days ago, I’d have been so ridiculously happy about an offer like this, but now….

Johan ignored me before. So maybe it’s time for him to get a taste of his own medicine.

I click the phone screen off and put it back in my bag, letting his message hang unanswered. It might make him reconsider doing it to someone else in the future. Ignoring him feels like a victory. And right now, I’ll take a win wherever I can get one.

The wheels of Astrid’s car eat up the miles, leaving Cambridge behind. The countryside opens up before us, a patchwork quilt of emerald fields and rustling trees, kissed by the red-orange glow of the setting sun.

Astrid is visibly relaxed, already anticipating a calm weekend with her family away from everything else. I know the feeling—I’m also looking forward to my first trip back to my family estate. Maybe I’ll take Astrid when I do and return the favor.

Her home isn’t too far away, but the closer we get, the fewer houses we see. Her family must own a decent swathe of land. As we finally reach the road that leads to her place, it’s clear now that Astrid’s family estate is pure British sophistication. The iron gate swings wide, revealing a pathway flanked by ancient oaks. The property stretches out, sprawling, with small flower beds and topiaries dotted about. The main house comes into view—a large, impressive example of classic Georgian architecture, timeless and elegant. Manicured gardens frame it, giving way to thicker groves of trees in the distance. They turn fall colors–yellow, orange, and red among the emerald.

“Welcome to Goschen Hall,” she says, her voice tinged with a playful pride. “We’re just in time for aperitivo.” She kills the engine and hops out. I follow, smoothing down my chinos, suddenly conscious of my appearance.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs is a woman in a dark navy suit who starts walking in our direction. Her short blonde hair, neatly styled, exudes an air of genteel authority. She must be in her mid-fifties, her demeanor as crisp as her outfit. For an instant, I wonder if it’s Astrid’s mom, but her stance seems too formal for it.

“Welcome home, Miss Astrid,” she says, her voice carrying a refined accent as another man walks past us and opens Astrid's truck to take our luggage.

“Thanks, Lauren.” Astrid hands the key to the porter and, taking her handbag with her, she looks between me and the woman and says, “Oh, this is Hannah. Hannah, Lauren—the family’s butler.”

“Welcome to Goschen Hall, Miss Hannah.” Lauren tilts her head slightly in respect. “I hope you’ll enjoy your stay among us.”

“Thanks,” I say with a nod of appreciation.

Once we’re ready, Lauren turns and leads us towards the house. “This way, please.”

As we ascend the steps, Astrid leans in, her voice lowered to a whisper. “I hope you don’t mind the formality. It’s a bit old-fashioned, I know.”

“That’s alright.”

As we cross the threshold of Goschen Hall, the grandeur of the entrance hall envelops me. The floor, a polished expanse of marble, reflects the kaleidoscopic light streaming from the stained glass above, casting vibrant patterns around the room. Ahead, a majestic staircase with intricately carved dark wooden balustrades spirals upward, while the walls, adorned with gilt-framed portraits of stern ancestors, project a sense of deep-rooted history. Above, ornate chandeliers hang from a ceiling rich with detailed plasterwork, adding a touch of opulence that catches my eye and takes my breath away.

“My parents are in the drawing room,” she explains, walking ahead. “Let’s go say hello. I’ll give you the full tour later.”

I nod eagerly, curious about the stories those stern and regal faces might tell. Lauren opens the doors to a beautifully lit room that unfolds before me like a painting, every detail perfectly arranged to blend elegance with warmth. Plush armchairs and deep sofas form a circle around the grand fireplace, which crackles gently, filling the space with a cozy glow. The walls are adorned with pastoral landscape paintings framed in ornate gold leaf, while lush, floral-patterned drapes cascade from tall windows, casting a warm golden hue over the room. A chandelier, delicate and sparkling, hangs above, its crystals casting shimmering patterns across the parquet floor.

Astrid leads me into the room, her smile as wide as ever. “Mum, Dad,” she says, gesturing to the elegantly dressed couple with champagne flutes in hand, “I’d like you to meet Hannah.”

Her mom is a picture of grace and sophistication–her hair is the same color as her daughters, just shot through with a little gray. Mrs. Goschen's eyes sparkle with a kind warmth as she takes my hand, her voice gentle.

“Hello, Hannah,” she says as we cheek-kiss. “Welcome to our home. Astrid's been talking so highly about you.”

Surprised, I blink a few times. Astrid told her parents about me? That’s so nice that I can barely believe it.

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Goschen,” I reply.

“Just call me Nina.” Her genuine smile eases my nerves, and I exchange a glance with Astrid, her eyes mirroring her mother's warmth. For a moment, I miss my mother terribly and I make a mental note to call her once we’re done here.

Her dad follows with a firm handshake, his presence exuding both authority and ease. “It’s wonderful to have you here, Hannah.” His handshake is firm, his smile genuine, but his eyes carry a depth of scrutiny that reminds me a little bit of my father when he’s doing business. Dad has softened over the years, his affection for his children coming easier and more often, but Astrid’s father still seems to hold his hard edge. “Astrid told us you just started at Cambridge, and you came all the way from the Netherlands?”

“That’s correct. I’m majoring in Art History, and I’m just as fascinated by oddities as your daughter seems to be.”

“That’s wonderful,” Mr. Goschen says with approval. “Astrid worked very hard for that exhibit. She’s quite proud of it, aren’t you, honey?”

Astrid rolls her eyes in annoyance, which makes me chuckle a bit. “Yes, Pa.”

After a few minutes of polite conversation, Astrid turns to me with a twinkle in her eye. “Let’s change before dinner. I’ll show you your room.”

She leads me up the grand staircase, its balustrades polished to a rich shine. The walls along the corridor are lined with portraits of individuals with stern faces and elaborate attire. I pause in front of one depicting a man in military regalia, his posture rigid and commanding. “Are these members of your family?” I ask.

Astrid nods, the hint of a smile playing on her lips. “This is my great-great-grandfather,” she answers, her voice mingling pride with a touch of amusement at my wide-eyed fascination. “He was quite the character—served in the military, then as a diplomat. And over here,” she moves to the next portrait, a stern-looking woman with sharp eyes, “is his wife, known for her philanthropy and her stern management of the estate.”

“What does your family do?” I venture.

“Well,” she says, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes, “my parents are Viscount and Viscountess Goschen.”

I blink, stunned. “Viscount and Viscountess?”

“Yep,” she says with a shrug. “It’s not as glamorous as it sounds, trust me. Come on, your room is just down here.”

She opens the door to a charming guest bedroom, where a large four-poster bed draped in luxurious linens stands next to a window that overlooks the sprawling gardens. “This will be your room for the weekend.”

“It’s lovely. Thanks.” Standing by the window, I gaze out at the rolling hills and sculpted flower beds, caught between disbelief and excitement at the unexpected layers of history and legacy that shape Astrid's world.

“Well, see you in twenty downstairs,” she says before walking out. “Wear something nice.”

I slip into a dress I brought specifically for dinner, a deep emerald-green piece with a flowing skirt that swishes softly around my legs as I move. It feels right for the occasion—a blend of elegance and comfort that matches the atmosphere of Goschen Hall perfectly. After a final glance in the mirror, I make my way back down the grand staircase to the dining room.

“There you are!” Astrid exclaims as I enter the room. “I was about to send Lauren to call you.”

“Did I take that long?” I ask, worried.

“Oh, nonsense,” Nina protests, shaking her head and giving a side look at her daughter. “We just arrived, too.”

I settle into my seat, noting the intricate floral centerpiece and savoring the subtle fragrance of roses and lilies.

Glancing around the dining room, I’m captivated by its high ceilings adorned with delicate plasterwork, the long table set with fine china and gleaming silverware, and the soft warmth from the fireplace, which lends the room an inviting glow.

The first course is served: delicate asparagus soup with truffle oil that melts on the tongue. Conversation flows easily between Astrid’s parents and me, punctuated by laughter and the gentle clinking of glasses. Then, out of the blue, Astrid’s phone buzzes on the table beside her plate. She doesn’t look bothered at first, but when she looks at the screen, a frown creases her face.

“Excuse me for a moment,” she says, slipping out of her chair and leaving the room.

While Astrid is gone, I notice Nina leaning in closer to me and lowering her voice to a discreet tone. “I’m truly delighted Astrid has found a friend like you. She’s a remarkable young woman, but even the strongest souls need companionship.”

“Thank you, Nina,” I reply, tilting my head slightly down. “Astrid has made me feel very welcomed at Cambridge.”

“Do you know anyone else there?” her dad asks.

“Just her.”

“Well, tomorrow, you will meet a few more folks. All wonderful people. Some are doing their PhD while others are academics.”

The atmosphere at the table shifts from comfortable to somber as Astrid returns, carrying with her a noticeable tension.

“What's happened, sweetheart?” Nina inquires, dabbing at her mouth with a white napkin.

Astrid hesitates for a moment, her eyes flickering to me before she looks back to her mom. It’s then that I’m sure whatever she’s about to say is school-related. I’m relieved it wasn’t Johan calling, but problems at Cambridge could cut our weekend short.

“One of the bracelets from my exhibit has gone missing,” she declares, her brow furrowing. “One of my assistants asked me if I took it.”

The revelation hangs in the air, a silent accusation that makes my stomach churn with guilt. Oh crap… I don’t have the bracelet on me, but I can see it in my mind's eye, wrapped in a lacy handkerchief and hidden in the back of my underwear drawer. Ancient, unbelievably valuable…and stolen.

Stolen from my new friend, Astrid.

I fight the urge to press a hand against my upset stomach and distract myself by drinking deeply the water in my glass. After a second thought, I reach over for the glass of wine and drink that one, too. It’s fresh and dry, but I’m not drinking it for the taste. I’m drinking it because I’m a thief on the precipice of getting caught.

Mr. Goschen interjects, immediately jumping in to comfort his daughter. “Have you checked the security cameras? Perhaps you can see if anyone else was in the room.”

Astrid’s response is laced with frustration. “The bracelet was inside a jewelry box on a cabinet on the other side of the room, away from the camera's view. It didn't capture anything of value—just the backs of everyone that was there. We couldn’t even see their hands or faces.”

The weight of my secret steals my voice. I feel a pang of shame for my actions, realizing that my thoughtless impulse might have jeopardized Astrid's exhibition. I want to confess, to tell Astrid the truth and apologize, but the words stick in my throat like a bitter pill.

“I'll check the archive room again when I return,” Astrid says, attempting to brush off the concern even though it’s clear to everyone at the table that she’s freaking out internally. “Maybe I left it there.”

“I’m sure you'll find it,” I interject, my voice barely above a whisper. I don’t regret having the bracelet, but I do feel ashamed that I did something to hurt Astrid, even if she doesn’t know that I’m the one responsible.

Later that evening, once dinner is done, Astrid guides me to my guest bedroom. Her father says we should come to have a port in the library with him, but I wave the offer off, making an excuse of being exhausted and needing to study some before bed. The truth is that I’ve been itching to be alone ever since Astrid’s assistant called.

The room is cozy, adorned with soft hues and floral patterns, giving it a warm feel. The bed is invitingly made, and a small writing desk sits by the window.

“I’ll let you settle in,” Astrid says, giving my hand a quick squeeze. “I’m off to have some port with my parents, but I’ll stop by to say goodnight before bed.”

“That sounds good.” I force a smile on. “Thanks, Astrid.”

“No, thank you for coming,” she insists. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a female friend. I like having you around, even if you are just a fresher.”

I laugh at her attempt at a joke, even though it rings a little hollow. Astrid leaves, and just as I settle in, my phone buzzes with a FaceTime call from my mom. Her face lights up the screen when I accept the call, familiar and comforting. “How's Cambridge, sweetheart? Are you settling in well?”

I can't help but smile as I share the highlights of my week, from the intriguing exhibition to meeting Astrid and the warm hospitality of Astrid's family. When she asks about Johan, I keep my response casual, masking the twinge of disappointment. “Oh, he’s actually Astrid's boyfriend now,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s fine, really. Astrid seems happy, and that's what matters.”

Mom hums and I see her narrowing her eyes. “That’s…interesting. Does that bother you at all?”

Yes! My inner thoughts scream, but that’s not what I tell her. I shrug, lying back so my head hits the pillow and holding the phone above me. “He was just a crush, Mom. Just like he was for Elise. And see how she’s moved on? Everything is fine.”

Mom doesn’t seem convinced, which annoys me. Ever since picking up on Elise and Dan being a couple before they announced it, she seems to view herself as some sort of matchmaker. It’s annoying.

Even so, she waves her hand in the air, dismissing any Johan problems. “There will be plenty of opportunities, dear. Plenty of eligible, educated bachelors. Don’t worry too much about that.”

“I already said I wasn’t,” I grumble.

Just as I end the call, there's a soft knock on my bedroom door. Astrid peeks in, her eyes filled with kindness. “Is there anything you need before bed?”

I shake my head, offering a genuine smile. “I’m good, thank you. Goodnight, Astrid.”

She returns my smile, wishing me goodnight before gently closing the door, leaving me alone one more.