by Alicia Ryan
“It’s ten in the morning. No one’s going to see me. No one in respectable society is even out of bed yet. Plus, I came in the back. And you haven’t answered my question.”
“Your brother is my friend. And he plays the piano for me on occasion.”
“You looked like more than friends when I came in.”
“What do you know about ‘more than friends’?” her brother demanded.
There was a brief gleam in Diana’s eye that Roxanna interpreted as “not enough”, and silently congratulated Hartley on his seeming success. It would appear the steely young Diana was concealing quite an interest in him.
“Enough to be alarmed that you might be courting this...woman.” She gestured with one hand toward Roxanna.
“And if I were?” he demanded.
Diana turned to look at Roxanna once more. “Well, I’d say congratulations, but mother would be horrified.”
At Phillip’s own horrified expression, Roxanna burst into laughter.
“What’s funny about this?” he asked. “She’s my sister.”
“Your fabulous sister,” she replied. “Diana,” she said, turning to the girl, “it has been an absolute pleasure to meet you. I couldn’t have concocted a better match for Hartley.”
“You think him suitable, then?” she asked, betraying her first hint of uncertainty.
“I’m a poor judge of suitable, I suspect,” she said, “but, I’m certain he’s a good man. If you can win him, don’t let him get away.”
Diana nodded. “And you and he....?”
Phillip grunted. “Roxanna is rather engaged with Lord Highmore at the moment. She and Hartley are just as she’s said...acquaintances.”
“Highmore...I’ve seen him. Not often, though. He’s an attractive man.”
“Oh, heavens,” Phillip exclaimed.
Diana grinned. “I’m soon to be someone’s wife, Phillip. A girl has to know how to take stock.”
“Yes, well, apparently Lord Highmore’s stock is quite popular.”
Roxanna and his sister both giggled, and he looked back and forth between them. “What?” he asked.
His sister looked at Roxanna. “I’ll leave you to explain the joke?” she said.
“Happily,” Roxanna replied. “Good luck with Hartley, though I don’t think you need it.”
The girl nodded her head and dipped a slight curtsy. “I’ll see you at home, Phillip.”
“Yes, of course.”
She eyed the two of them. “Good. Then I’ll let you get back to doing...whatever it was you were doing.”
She waved and was through the door before Phillip could stammer out a response.
Roxanna studied him with a grin.
“Well, at least her visit improved your mood,” he said. “It didn’t do wonders for mine.”
“Oh, she’s young, she’s beautiful—it’s better she know a little about the world. She’s less likely to get taken advantage of. And it sounds like Hartley might be succeeding in his cause.”
“That doesn’t gratify me the way you seem to think it should.”
“He’ll make a good husband, Phillip, to a wife who can be a real equal to him—who can match his energy and his infernal curiosity about everything under the sun.”
He chuckled. “That would be Diana.”
“Then we’re agreed.”
“So it would seem.”
She walked back over to him. “So, are we taking the day off?”
“Actually, I did remember it was Monday, but I came to ask if I might escort you on an outing.”
“An outing? How Mary Poppins.”
“Should I know this person?”
“No more than I should know Chaucer.”
“Right. Well, I happen to know Handel’s Messiah is being performed at St. Paul’s Cathedral all this week, through Saturday. Today’s performance is at eleven.”
“Oh, wow. I’d love to. I’ve never seen the entire thing.”
“We must work on your musical education.”
She grimaced. “All of my education could probably be improved upon.”
“Well, let’s start with Handel, shall we?” He stood and offered her his arm. “It’s just a little over a mile from here. An easy walk.”
“Just a minute,” she said. “Let me get my coat...uh...cloak—whatever. You know what I mean.”
Phillip was still smiling when she returned, this time wearing the cloak that went with her dress.
“He should have gotten you gloves, as well,” Phillip commented. “And a hat.”
She felt her shoulders slump. “Don’t start that up again. I did tie it up.”
“I noticed,” he said. His eyes blazed for a second. “I’d like to untie it.”
“Mister Branham, I believe we’re off to church?” She arched an eyebrow at him in mock reproach.
He offered her his arm, and they left from Padworth’s back entrance.
“I hate feeling like the scum of the earth,” she said when they were out on the street. “Back door, back stairs, leftover food, shitty little room.”
“There’s nothing for it, Roxanna. It is the way we function.”
“And women can’t even be in the same room as men, no matter what class they are. It’s insane. And they can’t vote!”
His brows shot up. “Women vote in your time?”
“Of course, you...” She groaned. “That’s why it’s called the future. We’ve advanced.”
“And in music?”
“Uh...well, I don’t know whether “advanced” is the right word. There’s more of it, and, as you’ve heard, a lot more variety.” She looked up at him. They almost matched today, as he wore a gray overcoat, but a light blue topcoat over gray trousers and black boots. “But classical music is still classical music. No one’s bested Mozart or Handel or Beethoven or Brahms or anything like that.”
“Brahms?”
“Oh, well, so a few greats do come along. I guess Brahms is a little later this century maybe. And there are some later Russian composers I like—Tchaikovsky, Rachmaninoff, Prokofiev. You’d like them; they did a lot of composing for the piano.”
“So you do have some musical education, after all.”
“I took one survey course in my first year at community college, but the teacher was an actual musician—a violinist, so it turned out to be worthwhile. I still can’t rattle off any of their works by heart or anything.”
They walked in silence for a bit, Roxanna examining how much more hospitable the city looked when the sun peeked from behind the clouds. Then, up ahead, a tremendous dome came into view.
“Oh,” she said. “Is that where we’re going?”
He nodded. “That’s St. Paul’s. It’s at the top of Ludgate Hill, which makes it the tallest building in the city.”
“Seems fitting,” she said. “It’s beautiful.”
“Just wait.”
And time proved him right. St. Paul’s was a massive colonnaded structure with towers and a dome the size of a football field. Or so it appeared to her. Phillip kindly informed her it was only just over one hundred feet wide.
They went in the west entrance, and the slight heels of her slippers clicked on the black and white tile floor. Off to either side were what appeared to be small chapels with their own altars and statues—one she surmised was Mary, the other, a man, could have been anyone. She was pretty sure it wasn’t Jesus.
But two more steps made her forget all about statues. The church rose up above them in a series of arches and domes, each painted in glorious colors and festooned with carvings of such intricacy that she could appreciate the artistry of even the ones she didn’t recognize. And the tile floor stretched on for what surely must have been a quarter of a mile. She was reminded at once of Princess Diana’s wedding. Her mom had a recording of it on an old VHS tape and pulled it out and watched it every year on the anniversary of the princess’ death.
As they progressed up the center aisle, Roxanna felt canyoned in th
e narrow space with the soaring ceilings. There were countless rows of seats from front to back, but only about ten chairs could fit on each side. A little farther up, she saw the red carpet and realized she wasn’t just reminded of the stupid royal wedding video. This was actually the place.
“This place doesn’t go anywhere,” she said, grasping tighter at Phillip’s arm to get his attention.
“The cathedral?”
“Yeah. I haven’t been to it in my time, but I’ve seen pictures. It’s pretty much the same.”
He gave a wistful smile. “That’s nice to know. You should come here—when you get back.” He looked down at her. “And remember me.”
Before she could reply, he turned and ushered her into an empty seat in a row about halfway up.
“How will we ever hear from this far back?” she whispered.
“Oh, don’t worry. The acoustics in here are perfect. The Vicars’ Chorale performs here on a regular basis, and I’ve always been impressed. For “The Messiah” there will also be a few female soloists.”
She put her hand back in the crook of his arm as the music started, wondering if he’d object, but he merely looked down at her hand, gave a quick smile, and turned his attention back to the choir.
She ultimately wasn’t sure if the choir was very good or if she was simply overcome by the atmosphere of the place, but she left the church with a new buoyancy.
“You enjoyed it, I gather?”
“Why, yes, quite,” she said. “On the whole, yes, quite enjoyable.”
“That is the worst impression of an English accent I’ve ever heard.”
“Oh, well—I had to try it at least once.”
He laughed. “Do you feel like walking or would you like to get a cab back? We could drive around for a bit.”
She shrugged. “Sure. It’s early.” She waved her purse at him, which resulting in much clinking of coins. “And it turns out the purse Darren gave me is stuffed with money, so I can probably pay.” She opened it up and looked inside. “Though, in all honesty, I have no idea how much this is. It could be change enough for an ice cream for all I know.”
Phillip took the purse from her and examined its contents. “Roxanna, there are twenty sovereigns in here and another sovereign worth of shilling coins.”
“Is that a lot?” She winced because she thought she knew the answer.
“It’s more than you’ll make at Padworth’s in the next two months.”
“Oh. I guess that is a lot.”
“It’s a lot of pocket money, yes.”
She shrugged. “So, let’s spend it.”
“I’ll find us a cab. You stay right here. And I will be paying for the service.”
She rolled her eyes at his departing back, but resisted muttering deprecatory comments about the males of the species.
From a few feet away, he waved her over to a black carriage. Unlike some she saw forming a line, this one was enclosed all the way around, for which she was grateful. December in London was not kind to a desert girl.
He held the door for her and gave her a hand up. Inside, the seats were smooth leather, but there were no toasty warm bricks. She heard Phillip say something to the driver, but couldn’t make out what.
When he joined her, she asked him where they were going.
“Just around the church itself for the moment. At the far corner is a café. I’ll run in and grab us a few sandwiches. I know you didn’t have breakfast.”
“Sounds capital. And slightly illicit—we’re not supposed to dine together unchaperoned, are we? Or something like that?”
He grinned. “Something like that. Then we’ll ride over to Bond Street and watch the shoppers. You seemed intrigued by that the other day.” He shrugged. “And since you’re in possession of a small fortune, I suppose we could get out and shop if you wanted.”
“I think I prefer people-watching, but let’s definitely start with lunch.”
He rapped on the roof of the carriage, and the driver set off, making three turns before Phillip was out and back again with two brown paper wrapped parcels. He gave one to her, climbed in and tapped once more on the roof.
Pulling on the string revealed a piece of warm, crusty bread, several slices of different cheeses, a cookie, and a cucumber sandwich. This she picked up and studied. It was so thin, she could see sunlight from the window coming through it, even though it had two slices of bread—no crusts.
“What are you doing?” Phillip asked.
“I’ve never seen a cucumber sandwich,” she replied. She held it between her thumb and forefinger and wiggled it. “It’s very...white.”
“They’re delicious. Try it.”
She refrained from turning toward him in order to hide her skepticism, but taste it she did.
“Oh, my,” she said, after forcing herself to swallow.
“Well?”
“Cucumber and butter. Who would’ve thought.”
“Yes, delightful aren’t they?”
She dropped hers onto the brown paper unfolded in his lap. “You can have mine.” Then she gave a sigh. “You know, I’d commit bloody murder for a cheeseburger right now.”
“We did just leave church, you know.”
“Well, it’s okay because a cheeseburger is a sacred thing. It’s a sandwich with grilled ground beef, melted cheese, lettuce, tomato, ketchup, mustard, onion...”
“Sounds like a bunch of things that belong in a stew.”
“You know, two hundred years from now, the English are still infamous for their bad cooking. Just so you know.”
“Eat your lunch.”
She sat up straight and gave him a salute and a hearty “yes, sir.”
“We call that being cheeky,” he said.
She smiled. “Good to know. I learn so much when I’m with you.”
“Eat your lunch.”
Which this time she did, and when they were finished, she watched in dismay as Phillip stacked the two sheets of brown paper and then meticulously folded them into a tiny square and slipped it into his inside coat pocket.
“You’re very...neat.”
“There’s nothing wrong with neat.”
“No, of course not. I don’t know why I’m surprised. I should have known you’d be neat.”
He cocked his head to one side. “Why do you say so?”
“Because you’re perfect in every other way?”
“Is that you being cheeky again?”
“Not really. I just meant that you’re such a gentleman. You have so many talents. Why wouldn’t you also be fastidiously neat?” She frowned and looked up at him. “Are there any virtues you don’t possess?”
“The ability to resist the temptation to escort a woman in public with no hat?”
She scoffed. “Now that was cheeky.”
“Look,” he said, leaning across her to point to something out her window. In doing so, she also leaned forward, causing his arm to brush across her breasts.
Jumping back like he’d been scalded, he fumbled out an apology.
Roxanna waved her hands to get him to stop talking. “Phillip—it was an accident. You didn’t accost me. Please, don’t give it another thought.”
He gripped the back of the seat with one hand and the edge with the other. “Trying not to think about you has become my sole occupation when not in your presence.” He looked down. “It doesn’t always work.”
Oh. Breeches weren’t designed for hiding erections, that much was clear.
“Phillip...”
He shook his head. “Don’t say anything. I know where I stand with you—and where you stand with him.”
“That’s right.”
Blue eyes pierced hers. “Would you grant me one kiss?”
She raised her brows. “Again?”
He had the grace to look a bit sheepish, but he leaned forward, took her hand, and pulled her toward him.
She let him. She didn’t know why, but she did. And she felt his lips touch hers—one light kiss, an
other. But she didn’t move.
“A kiss for the man who loves you?”
Oh, that word, she thought. She was as much of a romantic fool as her mother with her stupid royal wedding video. But it nevertheless unfroze her lips and unfroze something inside her toward this man. And this time, he was more practiced, and she was more sincere. No longer feeling as though she didn’t deserve him, she wrapped her arms around him, joined her mouth to his and gave him what he deserved. Something real.
Minutes later, she broke breathlessly away. “It’s stopped.”
He nuzzled his cheek against hers. “No, it hasn’t.”
“I meant the carriage, Romeo.”
He backed quickly away from her. “Oh, yes.” He opened the door and stepped down. “Come, let me help you out.”
“Ever the gentleman,” she murmured to him as she took his hand in her descent.
“More than most,” was his qualified reply.
He paid the driver, sent him on his way, and let them back into Padworth’s.
“And where have you two been?” Jack asked, sticking his head out of the door of his office.
“Just down to St. Paul’s,” Phillip responded. “To see The Messiah.”
Jack’s brows shot up. “Wouldn’t have pegged you a church-goer,” he said to Roxanna.
“Very funny. But no lightning bolt descended to strike me down, so God must have approved.”
He chuckled, and then another, smaller, head presented itself.
“Lance,” Roxanna cried. “How are you?”
The boy stepped out into the hall. “I’m right well, Miss Collins. And you’re looking very well. Much better than last time I seen you. Much better.”
“All thanks to you, Lance,” she said. “You and your brother.”
“So you sing here now?” he asked.
“That’s right.”
“Can you sing something for me?”
“Lance, I need to get back to work. You’ll have to stay with me,” Jack declared.
She might have laughed at the look of panic on his face, but didn’t want to confuse Lance.
“It’s alright, Jack,” she said. “I feel like singing. Why don’t you both come out? It’s still too early for the drinking crowd to have set in. I think I can come up with something appropriate.”
