by Hawke, Jessa
“I’ve never had a woman say that to me.”
“Whatever.”
George did his best to keep a straight face. “Honest.”
“I know of your reputation for wine, women and song. I bet you’ve laid with women in every corner in of the world.”
“OK. What I meant was, that I’ve not had a women say how handsome I am in English.”
Isabel felt her confidence leave her. “What languages have your women spoken?”
“Several.”
“I probably shouldn’t ask... but I’m intrigued to know how many of these exotic women you have known intimately.”
George had long accepted that truth was the best policy. “I can speak Arabic, French, Zulu, East African Click and Portuguese oh as well as Spanish of course.” However he could feel sweat building up on his brow and quickly wiped it dry with the back of his sleeve. “And I have met women who speak in each of those.”
“Well I speak English and Liverpudlian.”
“I hate that accent.”
“It’s a necessary evil with working in the city, I’m afraid.”
George felt his heart tighten while he dwelled on Isabel’s beauty. “Your father is worried that I will not make you a good husband. But believe me; I will be loyal as a pet dog.”
“I like obedient dogs.”
“And that beautiful necklace I see.”
Isabel reached to her neck to touch the gold necklace. “My father passed it down to me when I turned eighteen. It belonged to my mother.”
“I will decorate you in fine jewellery to match it.”
“May I ask..?”
“Of course. Fire away.”
“How come you have never married?”
“Well.” George chuckled nervously. “That was quite a broadside.”
“Sorry.”
“But I will let you into a secret... I married when I was seventeen.”
“What happened?”
George glanced down at his feet while he strolled at a leisurely pace. “She could not cope with me being away for long periods. She told me of her worries but I did not listen to them. As a young selfish man... I was having too much fun to worry about my wife.”
“What happened in the end?”
“She left me... and is now married to a vicar.” George bit his lip. “I understand she had every right too.”
“You were winning me over until the last few minutes.”
“But like I said. I was young. I have now, finally grown up with no wish for future exhibitions.” George could see the worry played out on Isabel’s face. He glanced over to see if Miss Black was still vigilant, but sighed with relief that she had disappeared. He then took hold of Isabel’s hand and peered into her hazel eyes. “Seeing you made me realise what I have been missing. If I kept abusing love... How would I ever truly be happy?”
“I’m glad that you see me in such I light. I really am.”
“Then, marry me.”
“George?”
“I don’t need an answer now. You can take your time. But as far as I’m concerned, you’re the woman for me.”
Isabel covered her mouth with her gloved hand. She then let out a giggle before glancing back towards the huge mansion. “I have to go back.”
“Call me a romantic fool. If I could write you a thousand letters and a million poems I would. But all I can say is that I love you.”
~
Isabel paced along the long corridor towards her father’s study. Her excitement almost made her pace break into a run. Pushing open the door with both hands she spotted Albert writing a letter. “Father, you never guessed what happened to me today?”
“I dare not think. Poor Miss Black has been going about her chores as if she has seen a ghost.”
“I have a wedding proposal.”
“Bloody hell.” Albert dropped his pen, not noticing the spatter of ink on his letter. “Just wait until I see him.”
“Father, I thought you’d be happy.”
“But you’ve only met once since you were a child. What’s he bloody thinking about?”
Weighed down by confusion, Isabel leant against the closed door. “But you know him well? He’s not a stranger.”
“I know, I know. But still? I think the guy has been cursed by some shaman or something... He’s not acting normal.”
“I was really shocked too.” Isabel’s face then broke into a smile, which melted her father’s heart. “But pleasantly so. I found him very charming, and he’s lost none of his looks.”
“Just look at the smile... It would suggest one has made up her mind? Do you think it could work?”
Isabel stepped up to Albert then threaded her arms around his waist. “We’ll take our time... but I’ve not seen anything I don’t particularly like.” She rested her head on her father’s chest, smelling the rich cologne she has always known. “I mean, he has history... quite a lot of history.”
“True. But there is nothing you can do about that. A long as he’s not killed, then all you can do is judge him from today onwards.” Albert reached down and kissed his daughter’s crown. “Love you.”
Chapter 8
George shielded his face from the sun until he stepped into the shade offered by the gazebo. Inside he found Albert reading the business section of a broadsheet newspaper. “I can guess what you want to talk to me about, Old Boy.”
“Asking my daughter to marry you? On a first date?”
“I got a little carried away with such beauty. I’m sorry... I just wanted to express myself fully before I go back down to London tonight.”
Albert folded the paper and placed it on the table beside the breakfast tray. “You’re a mature adult... stop acting a fool. What’s got into you, Man?”
“I don’t know... but I’m serious.”
“I’m just shocked... so out of character of the rough and tumble action man I know.”
“I’m being true to myself. The last twenty years was me running away from it all.”
“Running away, maybe. But you found riches and fame in the process.”
George broke into smug snigger. “Yes.” But he quickly returned to giving his testimony. “But seeing Isabel’s face... it made me want to stop running.”
“You promise?”
“You have my word.”
“Well, it’s a good job that Isabel is onboard with the idea.” George then rose from his wicker chair. “To the smoking room for a celebratory whisky and cigar.”
“But it’s not even eleven.”
“You can drop the perfect son-in-law act now. I know George Coldstone, and I know he is a hard drinker. So let’s open that vintage.”
George chuckled with a hint of sarcasm. “I thought you had forgotten about the vintage.”
“Not a chance... George. Not a chance.” Albert walked up the lawn back towards the mansion. He couldn’t stop smiling as he thought of finally getting his daughter wed. “So, I’ll organise the formal engagement at the guild hall of the society. Make it official for you and Isabel. You’ll have to invite your parents.”
“My parents... yeah my parents.”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing... I’ll inform them when I can” George opened the door. “Nothing at all.”
“Why don’t you stay the night? Help me finish my bottle?”
“I can’t. I have a buyer for my apartment in Kensington, so already bought my ticket for London.”
“Darn... I’ll just have to finish it alone.”
George took a step back into the room. “Don’t worry, Old Boy. I’ll help you finish it before I go.”
~
Thick smog lay close to the ground turning people into shadow puppets while buildings appeared like mere silhouettes. George could still taste the whisky on his lips as he strolled along the crowded cobbled streets towards the city’s train station. Hands firmly inside the deep pockets of his frockcoat, he kept his eyes on the cobbles in order to avoid standing in droppings
from the carthorses.
George’s bladder ached, causing him to dart into an alley where he decided to relieve himself against the brickwork. He sighed with relief while he listened to the trickle.
“Penny for the blind”
“What? Can’t you see I’m having a piss?” George then realised his mistake. “Sorry, that was rather rude of me... but surely you could hear it?”
“Penny for the blind.”
George turned his head and saw a young boy holding a tin car. “I don’t believe in charity... But I’ll give you a toffee. How about that?”
“Come on, Sir. Please.”
“You obviously not that bad if you’re turning down toffee. Go on, sod off.”
The young boy shook his tin once more. “Aye. Come on... a man in such a fine coat can surely afford a measly penny.”
“I thought you were blind? How do you know about my coat?”
“Err... I could smell the fine cotton, Sir.”
George buckled his belt. “You’re a charlatan.”
“You’re so tight your boots squeak.”
“Hey, less of that you rascal I told you I’d give you a toffee.”
“You’re a tight bastard.”
“The language!” George ground his teeth. “In fact, come here. I’m taking you to the police station. Maybe they’ll teach you some respect.”
“No. Get off.”
“No it’s for your own good. Typical bloody Northerner.”
The young boy began to scream, kicking his legs while George picked him up. “Help!”
“Stop it.”
“Lads! I’m being kidnapped by a dirty pervert.”
“What did you just call me?”The alleyway suddenly became blocked at the end with young dirt covered children, brandishing stove pipes and broken bricks. George turned back and noticed the other end was also blocked by a second angry mob. “Oh... shit.”
“Not giving me a penny has cost you your wallet.”
“I’m not going to get bullied by a bunch of half-starved scallies...”
“Get him, lads!”
A stove pipe across the back of George’s legs brought him tumbling to the damp ground where he was then promptly jumped on by several boys. He tried to crawl out of the mass of bodies while being kicked and punched but eventually succumbed to the vicious assault.
Half naked and bloodied, George stumbled onto the high street into the arms of a surprised policeman.
Chapter 9
In the pale morning light the virgin mist clung to the dewy grass. George yawned while parting the mist as he strolled towards the waiting carriage. He then doffed his top hat towards the driver who sat upon his seat with the reins in his hand. “Morning, Driver. Albert will be out shortly.” George suddenly stopped in his tracks as he felt Edward’s eyes upon him. “What is it, Boy?”
“Nothing. Sorry, Sir.”
George suddenly felt conscious of his bruised face. “It’s your kind who did this to me.” He placed his hand on the brass handle of the carriage door. “Bloody scum, the lot of you.”
“I hope your wounds mend well, Sir.”
“Words, just words.”
Edward’s stared ahead while he whispered under his breath. “Words yes... but they’re sincere.”
~
Albert stepped inside the carriage before closing the door behind him. He smiled as he sat on the leather bench seat opposite George. “Lovely crisp morning.” Noticing George’s mood, Albert asked, "So, why do you look so flustered?”
“Your driver, I want him vetted. He looks young and full on mischief.”
“He is young. But when Bill retired, he recommended Edward. Told me he used to volunteer in the stables as a child, is trustworthy and of good character. Anyway, he is leaving at the end of the month.”
“Why?”
“Nothing of note.”
“No commoner is trustworthy. They’re not that different to vermin.”
Albert fingered his neatly trimmed moustache. “George. I know what happened to you was rather frightful.” His face then cracked a wry smile. “But you shouldn’t tar them all with the same brush. You know that.”
“Albert, they beat me and left me for dead. Edward could easily do the same.”
“I don’t think the grim reaper was sharpening his scythe in anticipation of your untimely arrival, George. You have a few bumps and bruises... I think you’re shaken up more than anything.”
George clenched his fists while he burned with indignation. “Worse has happened to me at the Moghul’s dungeons. But what scares is this... Just imagine if it was Isabel who was attacked instead of me.”
“I would rather not think about it.”
“You should. It’s the lack of law and order here that makes me want to take her back to London.”
“The company is based here... and will remain so. You were unlucky, that’s all.”
“I hope your stubbornness doesn’t cost you.” George held Albert within his stare. “Please tell me you never let her travel alone?”
“Of course not. My daughter’s safety is paramount. She always has an escort, whether it’s me, you or a trusted member of the house.”
“After my experience last week, I’m going to start carry arms... if it’s OK with you.”
Albert raised his eyebrows then froze in disbelief. “Arms?”
“I want to protect both me and your daughter.”
“What do you mean by arms exactly?”
“A pistol.”
Albert searched George’s face for a hint of jest... but found none. His sight then dropped to George’s open blazer where the butt of a pistol perturbed. “A pistol? Don’t you think this is an overreaction to your unfortunate episode?”
“There’s no overreaction when it comes to Isabel’s safety.”
“You have a point, I suppose. Just, I hope you never have to use it.”
Chapter 10
Isabel could not stop admiring the blue diamond that lay encased on a band of white gold. Her eyes finally peeled away from the engagement ring to find the smiling face of her fiancée. “George... it’s perfect. I almost want to cry.”
“The perfect ring for a perfect woman.”
“I can’t thank you enough.”
“Well, apart from your love. All I ask in return is to accompany me on a visit to parents so I can invite them to the official engagement party which your father is organising.”
Isabel glanced down at the ring on her delicate finger. “Of course.”
“I’ve had your luggage prepared and packed on to the carriage.” George took out his tin of tobacco from the inside pocket of his frock coat. “But before we set off I just want to discuss some business with your father.”
“Sure, but don’t drink... I can tell you’ve already had a whiskey.”
George appeared annoyed, but swallowed his anger. “Just a tipple after lunch.”
“Sorry. Just, I don’t want you to sleep for the whole journey.”
“I will keep you company, my love.”
Isabel squeezed the fingers of George’s hand. “George.”
“Yes?”
“I can’t wait to see your parents.”
George’s smile appeared broken. As if he didn’t believe his own words. “I’m sure you’ll find them delightful.”
Isabel wondered out to the waiting carriage. She couldn’t stop examining her ring until her eyes finally lifted from the jewel to find a familiar face. “Morning. How are you?”
“Good, Ma’am. Thank you.”
“Eddie! What are you still doing here if you’re not going to act normal? Plus, I’m moving on, and I think you should venture to new pastures.”
“Don’t worry, Ma’am. It’s my last week.”
Even though she remained resolute, Edward’s admission rocked Isabel. “What will you do next?”
“I’ll be OK.” Albert’s keen eyes had spotted the gold ring. “Congratulations.”
“I’m sorry,
Edward. If things were different...”
Edward appeared empty. “But they’re not, are they? So no need to apologise.” His tired smile placed a huge burden on his wounded heart. “I wish you both well.”
~
Isabel could smell the telltale scent of whiskey on George breath once he closed the door of the carriage. She let out a small sigh as the carriage began its journey to the railway station. “I do believe that you’ve been drinking, George. I don’t mean to go on... but it’s not even lunchtime. That’s just plain wrong.”
“Spend one day with my parents and you’ll understand why I’m drinking.”
“I’m sure they’ll be delightful.”
George took out hip flask and took another swig. “Then prepare to be disappointed.”
“George, put it away... you couldn’t even walk straight to the carriage.”
“I’ll sleep it off during the journey.”
“How far is it again?”
“Two hours on the train. We’ll be there before dinner.” George snuggled into the corner of the cabin, and then closed his eyes. If not... then beware of the wrath of my mother.”
“She can’t be that bad.”
“If she wasn’t... then I wouldn’t feel the need for getting blotted.”
“You’ve had a drink virtually every time I’ve seen you.”
George yawned into his hand. “I want to relax and sleep before the stress of seeing my parents.”
“Don’t sleep... I want to talk.”
“I think it’s best I sleep. If not, I tend to do things I regret.”
Isabel stood from the bench seat then stepped across the cabin to sit beside George. “Thank you for the ring.” She leaned against George then rested her lips on his cheek. “I can’t wait to be Mrs Coldstone. Wife of the famous explorer.” Her heart raced as George met her with a smile.
“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”
“On numerous occasions. But it’s always nice to hear.”
“You could be a Goddess... a Goddess so beautiful, that even Venus would pale in comparison.”
Isabel blushed under such compliments. “George, please. I think it’s the drink speaking.”
“I mean it.”
“Then thank you.”
