by Alice Kirks
They were very lucky to live in such a scenic part of the country, although since the passing of Lady Frances, the family had been going out on rides much less. It felt like a betrayal to take in so much of the world’s beauty without her.
After passing all of the incredible sights along the way, the Stanhopes finally pulled up in front of the Nott Estate. It was a grand house made of a light brick that was impressive in size yet quite welcoming. Lady Bridget hadn’t ever remembered being to the house, although her father assured her she had when she was much younger. The valet immediately came out and opened their carriage door for them, and the family descended their carriage steps into the cool evening air. The butler met them at the front door, and, welcoming them inside, informed them, “The masters of the house are awaiting your arrival in the library, Lord Alymer.”
The butler gave them all a deep bow and Lord Alymer thanked him kindly. Another butler guided them through the vast manor to the library, where he opened the intricately decorated wooden door and ushered them in.
“Announcing Lord Alymer, Lady Deborah, and Lady Bridget Stanhope.” Bridget hadn’t realised how anxious she was about this whole evening until she heard their full names being announced. She wasn’t entirely sure why she was nervous; it was her sister who was going to be seeking a young man’s company this evening. She had been to many, many dinners such as this one at the estates of acquaintances of her father’s, but there was something about the Nott family that made Bridget’s heart race a little faster.
As they stepped into the warmth of the library, however, Bridget felt her nerves melt away for she was distracted by the most remarkable collection of books she’d ever laid eyes on. All of the volumes looked as though they had been handpicked for their beauty. They were a variety of colours, but each one seemed to match with the others.
There were books as far and as high as the eye could see. There were rolling ladders that hung in front of the taller shelves so that no matter your height, you would be able to access all of the volumes. There was a second floor that wrapped around the room with no ceiling in between the two, and Bridget felt as though she’d walked into her own personal heaven. She was so distracted by the room that she missed the introductions of the people standing within it entirely until her father called to her. She snapped her attention to him.
“I’m terribly sorry,” she apologised, finally taking in the people around her. “I was so taken with your library that I became distracted.” As she looked upon the faces of the four men in the room, they all seemed to smile knowingly. Lord Philip stood just in front of one of the largest chairs, looking striking as always. Lord Miles stood just to his left, and Bridget noticed he seemed to be unable to contain the happiness he was feeling at the sight of Lady Deborah. Then, there were two gentlemen that Bridget didn’t recognise.
One of them stood just to Lord Philip’s right. He was shorter and slenderer than Miles, with reddish hair that stood so on end that it looked as though he had just encountered something very surprising. His attire was not unpleasant, but it did look as though it was not in as good condition as Miles or Lord Philip’s.
The other gentleman, however, was the one who caught Bridget’s attention the most. He looked familiar, but Bridget couldn’t quite place where she knew him from. He looked only a few years older than Bridget, and was taller than any of the other men in the room. He had dark brown, almost black hair that was well-kept and tidy. He was rather muscular looking and he seemed at home in his body, where many other young men did not. He had a stately nose that suited his face well, and through his smile, Bridget could discern sparkling white teeth which entreated her greatly.
“I had hoped that you would enjoy this room as much as we do,” Lord Philip replied. “I take no offense at your distraction; I am rather delighted by it. Allow me to introduce everyone again.” He gestured to the two young men standing beside him. “You already became re-acquainted with Lord Miles, my younger son, yesterday, and this is the boys’ cousin, Henry Partridge.” Bridget and Deborah curtseyed to the two men and the appearance of Henry suddenly made sense to her.
She had heard of Henry about town; his father was Lady Agnes Nott’s brother. Lady Agnes was Lord Philip’s wife and his son’s mother, who had passed away when they were quite young. Henry’s father was still quite well-off, but less so than his brother. Henry was quite a handsome young man, although his fiery hair did give him an amusing look.
Then, Lord Philip gestured to the man who was standing in the corner by a large stack of books who had initially caught Bridget’s attention. “This,” Lord Philip explained, “is my eldest son, Lord Geoffrey. He was the one who could not make it to our meeting the other day as he had to go to London.” The two women curtseyed to Geoffrey, and he bowed back. Bridget’s heart began to beat a little faster.
This strapping young man was Lord Philip’s son and Miles’ brother? What good fortune! She realised that she probably recognised him because he looked so much like his father and his younger brother, and kicked herself for not having realised the relation sooner. When she came out of her curtsey, Bridget noticed that Geoffrey was studying her and it made her heart flutter.
“I do apologise for my absence,” Geoffrey replied. “I should have very much enjoyed accompanying my father and brother to your estate. I was very concerned for your family’s well-being after hearing about the intruder you had the other night.” Bridget felt her knees going slightly weak at the sound of Geoffrey’s voice. He had such a deep, rich tone to his speech that Bridget wanted to listen to him speak for hours.
He sounded exactly the way she imagined Pirate Tomlinson speaking in the story they had heard the other day. It wasn’t a bad thing, either, that he had many of the characteristics of the dashing heroes she both wrote about and read about. Standing there in the library, Bridget felt herself becoming increasingly taken with Lord Philip’s eldest son.
“That is very kind of you, Lord Geoffrey, and we thank you for your concern. But please pay no mind to your absence; we are more than happy with your presence this evening,” Lord Alymer replied. Geoffrey nodded his head, and Lord Philip encouraged them all to sit down. Bridget was happy to sit and discuss whatever with them but she had a whole library to peruse, and she thought perhaps if there were one less person in the group, Miles and Deborah might get a few moments to speak alone to each other.
“Would it bother anyone if I were to look through the library? I am so entranced by it that I am not sure I would be the skilled conversationalist that I typically am.” Bridget asked the question directly to Lord Philip as the rest of her family were seated (she noted her sister taking the chair closest to Miles and she was very proud of her), but was consulting everyone in the room. Lord Philip smiled happily, placed the glass of dark liquid that he was holding in his hand down on the side table, and clapped his hands together.
“Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see another beautiful young woman taking in this great library, for it was the pride and joy of my wife, Lady Agnes.”
Bridget’s eyes widened. “This library was your wife’s design?” Lord Philip nodded, and Bridget noted that he got the same happy yet sad look on his face that she did when she spoke of her mother.
“She collected every book you see on these shelves, and designed the room to be her personal oasis. Nothing, save for these two, made her happier.” Lord Philip looked to his two sons, who both smiled back at him; albeit with a certain sadness in their eyes. Bridget was silent for a moment before responding.
“Then I shall treat each and every one of these books with the respect and admiration they deserve.” Lord Philip said no more, but seemed to gaze upon Bridget with a look of pride. She quietly walked to the front corner of the room and began scrolling her eyes across the numerous titles. It seemed Lady Agnes had a wide variety of interests in books, for seldom few of them seemed to be of the same genre.
There was everything from Robinson Crusoe to Utopia to Cand
ide and Gulliver’s Travels. As Bridget walked a little further along the wall, she found Lady Agnes’ Shakespeare collection and had to stop. She ran her fingers ever so lightly across the volumes that contained some of her favourite plays. When her hand fell upon her favourite of them all, A Winter’s Tale, she gently removed the play from its position and opened it to the first page. There, in delicate handwriting, was a quote. As she began to read it, a sultry voice came just over her shoulder and whispered it in her ear.
“What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me? What wheels, racks, fires, what flaying, boiling in leads or oils? What old or newer torture must I receive; whose every word deserves to taste of thy most worst?” As he spoke Bridget felt the hairs rising on the back of her neck, and goosebumps appeared on her arms.
When he was finished, Bridget kept the play open and slowly turned around to face Lord Geoffrey. When they were face to face, Geoffrey’s mouth was slanting upwards in one corner and his eyes met Bridget’s. To her, it felt as though Geoffrey was looking at her as though she had chosen the play for a meaningful reason to him. But as she gazed at him for longer, Bridget was struck by the colour of Lord Geoffrey’s eyes.
When they were illuminated by the candlelight, they were an ordinary green/blue colour that was still very bewitching. But when he turned his head slightly too far from the light, they seemed to take on a very familiar turquoise colour. But before Bridget had much longer to study them, Geoffrey asked her, “How did you know that was my mother’s favourite play by Shakespeare?” Bridget looked at him, surprised.
“I was unaware of that fact, My Lord. I picked up this volume because A Winter’s Tale is my favourite play.” Geoffrey let out a small chuckle of astonishment.
“I have a very hard time believing that. A Winter’s Tale is very rarely anyone’s favourite play. It begins so sadly and with such sorrow that most readers abandon it before they even get to the second half,” Geoffrey explained, confused. Bridget shook her head.
“They must not understand that that the experience of joy is only made better by having gone through the sorrow,” Bridget responded. Then, she quickly added, “I mean in regards to the play, of course.” A warm smile washed over Geoffrey’s face and he gently took the play out of Bridget’s hands to look at the quote.
“Of course. Art never imitates life, does it?” he asked. Bridget shook her head.
“Absolutely never.” Geoffrey looked up from the play, closed the front cover and placed the play back on the shelf. Then he turned back to Bridget and asked her, “I apologise, were you finished looking at the play? I interrupted you.”
“Oh no, that’s quite alright. I only wanted to look at it; thank you for returning it to its rightful spot,” Bridget said.
Geoffrey gave her a small nod and replied, “I will leave you to the books, then,” and began walking away. Bridget did not want him to leave her alone, and so she quietly called after him, “I would love to hear more about your mother’s work on this library, if you please?”
Geoffrey stopped and turned back around to her slowly. He didn’t look happy, but he also didn’t appear to want to leave her side either. He furrowed his brow and looked at the shelves that surrounded the room, as if trying to decide what he should say or if he felt like saying much of anything. Finally, he responded,
“I could gladly talk for hours about my mother’s affection for this room. Sometimes it felt like she cared more for these books than she did for Miles and I.” Geoffrey laughed, and so Bridget felt that she could laugh at his jest as well. If he hadn’t been joking, Bridget did not want to laugh at a mother caring more for her library than she did for her sons. “But I don’t want to bore you with the tales of my family just yet; we’ve only just met.” There was a sparkle in Geoffrey’s eye that made the way he said ‘just yet’ sound as though he was looking forward to speaking with her more. It made Bridget’s heart skip a beat, especially because she was gazing into his enchanting eyes...
It was then that Bridget re-remembered their colour. As she looked at the more closely, they did bear a striking resemblance to the eyes of the thief. But the thought that Lord Geoffrey might have been the intruder was nearly impossible - why would a nobleman steal from them? And why would a man of such good character partake in such horrible deeds? Bridget pushed the thought from her mind, and concentrated more closely on responding to Geoffrey.
“You certainly wouldn’t be boring me. Books are one of the greatest treasures of my life, so I very much understand their meaning. And I would love to hear more about your family. They all seem very lovely so far.” Just as Bridget finished speaking, however, the butler entered the room.
“Dinner is served, Your Lordship,” he announced to Lord Philip. The older gentleman gave him an understanding nod and gestured to the door.
“Shall we adjourn to the dining room?” The Stanhopes and the Notts all nodded, and Miles and Geoffrey went to their father’s side to assist him in standing up. Bridget watched as the two quite obviously strong young men still struggled to get Lord Philip up onto his feet. His legs seemed weak, and he didn’t seem to be able to put much weight on them.
After a few moments of trying and failing, Geoffrey bent down and whispered something in his father’s ear, which his father gave a hesitant nod to. Geoffrey quickly left the room, and Lord Philip looked around at the concerned faces.
“Nothing to worry about,” Lord Philip reassured them all. “My legs have been ailing me as of late. Young Geoffrey has gone to fetch me my wheelchair so that I might be better able to move about the estate. Though it doesn’t help me to feel any younger, I must admit.” There was a titter of nervous laughter throughout the room, and seconds later Geoffrey returned with the awaited wheelchair.
This time, Miles and Geoffrey had very little problem helping Lord Philip into the chair, and when he was seated, he raised his arms in triumph. Bridget, Deborah and Lord Alymer all gave applause, much to the delight of Miles and Geoffrey. Geoffrey took the back of the chair and wheeled his father out of the room, with Miles behind them, followed by Henry and Lord Alymer who were deep in discussion. Finally, Deborah rushed over to her sister and took her by the arm.
“I am most interested to know what you and Lord Geoffrey were discussing so intently, dear sister,” Deborah whispered to her. Bridget did her best to fight the girlish smile from taking over her face, but she couldn’t help it.
“He is rather handsome, isn’t he?” Bridget admitted excitedly. Deborah raised her eyebrows at her.
“Rather handsome?” Deborah asked her sister incredulously. “Lord Geoffrey puts the dashing heroes in your fantastical stories to shame, Bridget! And if that it all you’re going to say about your conversation, I shall pester you all the way home until you tell me. I shall ferret it out of you!” Deborah’s sudden keen interest in her sister’s romantic relations was very amusing to Bridget.
“And here I was thinking it was only you who would be swept off your feet by a handsome young Nott,” Bridget replied, beaming from ear to ear. “We spoke of Shakespeare. His mother and I have the same favourite play: A Winter’s Tale.” Deborah seemed impressed.
“You and an eligible bachelor discussed the romantic works of Shakespeare while standing in his cozy study. If this evening becomes any more of a fairy-tale, I shall have to remove you from it immediately.” Deborah patted her sister’s hand as they came towards the door of the dining room.
“I hate to disappoint you, Deborah, but A Winter’s Tale is not one of Shakespeare’s best-known works of romance,” Bridget explained. “It begins with many deaths and exiles and executions, the main one being the wife of the main character.” Deborah turned and looked at her quizzically.
“Why on earth would you like a play like that?” Bridget giggled as they entered the dining room.
Chapter 9
The dining room was a grand, long hall with golden curtains, dark wood serving tables, lush wallpaper, and in the centre of the room a beautifully set di
ning table. All of the dishes were rimmed with gold, and the silverware was so shiny it seemed to glow in the candle light. Geoffrey was just wheeling his father into position at the head of the table, and so Lord Alymer stood behind the seat just to his left.
Henry went and stood behind the chair to Lord Alymer’s right, and Miles and Geoffrey each took the next chair down on opposite sides from one another. The gentlemen all looked to the two ladies, who stood arm in arm in the doorway. No one said anything or made a move for a moment. Bridget was fairly certain that she and Deborah should simply go to the chair beside the brother that they were the most interested in, but she worried it would reveal their intentions too much. Finally, Lord Philip spoke from the head of the table.
