(no subject)
Title: Bluebells and roses.
Chapter 18.
This is the next part of an AU/AU, a tribute to a great short story and a marvellous film. Please have mercy, I’ll try to update ASAP!!!
Timeline: before the introduction chapter, we’re swimming between end of 19th and beginning of 20th century.
Thanks as usual to all of you who read and posted a review. It is so important for me.
Disclaimer: intellectual property of Ms. Proulx, no commercial use, no copyright infringement.
Special thanks also this time to my dear Beta Sam, her help and support is really precious for me.
Ennis asked Lord Alcott’s advice in finding a reliable agency and was instructed to contact an office in the Knightsbridge area, where he was introduced by a young clerk to a polite middle aged man, who listened to Ennis and quietly took note of his requests.
Everything seemed very aseptic and formal; the man, Mr. Atherton, opened a brown folder and assigned a number he asked Ennis to remember well. It was a security system, he explained, to avoid using the real names of his customers. The numbers were kept in a locked box the combination to which was known only to Mr. Atherton himself and his business partner, Mr. Harris.
Mr. Atherton promised Ennis results in two weeks and refused the offer of an advance payment to hurry up the investigation.
Ennis left the building feeling relieved and ready to meet Jack in a shop in New Bond street. Ennis had decided Jack needed a new wardrobe and planned to visit his traditional men’s shop in London.
So Jack was waiting for Ennis at the shoemaker; the owner, a short, middle aged Welshman, was already studying the frame of Jack’s foot. He greeted Ennis as soon as he entered.
“Good morning, Lord Delmar!”
“Good morning, Mr. Jones.”
“It’s always a pleasure to see you.”
“I’d like to come and buy here more often, but the quality of your products is so durable…” he stopped smiling at Mr. Jones, who was glad to receive Ennis’ appreciation and thanked him politely. Ennis was used to ordering only one new pair of boots every year, but he very much liked Mr. Jones and his shop, full of leather and with the smell of wood and polish.
“I’ve already shown your brother-in-law our styles models and now that I have his lasts I can prepare everything you want.”
Jack stood up from a large comfortable armchair and pointed a pair of black boots. “That pair would be good.”
“Very good choice, Mr. Twist,” Mr. Jones assured.
“Yes, Jack, but you need a brown pair, too. For when we go… hunting.”
“Lord Delmar is right, the pair you have chosen is excellent for evening events.”
Jack was not at ease, it was his first time in such a place and the day before, when Ennis had talked about new shirts, trousers, jackets and ties he had tried, in vain, to protest.
He always used to dress in black with a white shirt, provided by the house when he was a servant or by Lureen’s maid when they lived in Baltimore.
Thankfully, Ennis had mercy on him and took a boot from a shelf. “I bought this type two years ago and was very satisfied.”
“I think I’ll follow your suggestion, Ennis.”
Mr. Jones took note of Jack’s choice and assured them everything would be ready in ten days.
Ennis and Jack reached the shirt maker after a five minute walk; Ennis prompted Jack to order first a dozen white shirts.
Jack still couldn’t believe there were people used to buying so many items of the same kind. While they were strolling around the streets, he saw other gentlemen - alone or with ladies - going in and out of the shops, while clerks took their purchases to the carriages parked on the street.
Ennis swore their last stop for the day would be at the tailor’s shop, where he wanted to introduce Jack to old Mr. Plant, who was still managing his family business at the age of 82.
The oldest son of Mr. Plant, Thomas, suggested to Ennis a private meeting for the next afternoon, because unfortunately Mr. Plant Sr. was busy at the moment with two American businessmen who were choosing their brand new English jackets and trousers. The Americans were speaking with a loud tone from one dressing room to the other in the back, and Jack recognized their accent as Texans. People in the oil business, he presumed.
Thomas Plant’s attitude told Ennis - without words -that it would take more than wearing traditional and respectable clothing to improve the position of those Americans in London society.
Ennis and Jack decided to take a short walk in Hyde Park, but soon it started raining, so they took refuge in a small and clean tearoom, just opposite the Underground station.
Later they had dinner in the gorgeous club’s dining room, at the same table with two venerable gentlemen who were acquaintances of Ennis’ grandfather.
Jack very much appreciated their stay at the club, he liked the solemn atmosphere of the building, the two drawing rooms with large and comfortable armchairs, the sense of freedom given by the absence from home. London was so different from Baltimore, it was a bigger, huger, larger city than he had imagined.
On their last evening in London, the weather was quite warm, so Ennis proposed a walk along the Thames. They crossed some quiet and narrow streets in Pimlico to reach the river and walked toward Chelsea Royal Hospital.
Jack was strangely silent, Ennis noticed, apart some occasional comments about some stunning views from the quays.
“Thanks, Ennis.”
“You shouldn’t thank me.”
“I’ve spent some beautiful days with you, this city is so extraordinary and I’m happy to visit it with you.”
“When I was younger I hated it a lot, but now I’ve grown to like a short interlude of city life…. although I’ll never trade my home for a house in town.”
“That could be good.”
Ennis was deeply surprised by his lover’s words. Did he misunderstand Jack and his desires so much? He was sure Jack adored the county life, or had the years in Baltimore changed his vision of the world?
“Good? What do you mean?”
“It’s not important now.” Jack’s gaze was captured by something on the other side of the river, where the woods of Battersea Park were slowly fading in the evening summer light.
“You’d prefer to live here? If that’s so, I can afford a proper house. We could...you could stay here whenever you want.” Such words were painful for Ennis, who had made up his mind to live his life with Jack, always.
Jack realised the confusion his words had created and after a brief scanning around to be sure it was dark enough and nobody was around, touched Ennis’ arm.
“I don’t care where I live. What I want is to be with you.”
Ennis and Jack returned home with some presents for their children, including a new wooden horse for Bobby. It was important for a young gentleman to start riding soon, Ennis assured Jack.
Alma was back, too, and her younger brother with his brand new wife were guests, but Ennis wasn’t disturbed by them or by his wife.
Jack was unaffected by Alma, too. He often spent the day at his farm with Bobby and his parents.
It was hard to have Ennis so close and so far away at the same time, but Jack tried to resist, because the promised reward could to be so sweet.
At home, Ennis waited anxiously for Mr. Atherton’s report. His suspicions about Alma were growing every passing day.
When Mr. Atherton wrote he had some information, Ennis returned to London, with the official reason that he needed to search for a suitable apartment for Alma.
At the office, Ennis climbed the stairs as fast as he could, he wanted to know immediately. Mr. Atherton was away so Ennis had to speak with his partner, Mr. Harris, a more jovial and smiling man, with thick moustaches.
Maybe it was a good idea to be different from the absolute stiffness of Mr. Atherton.
“Lord Delmar, please take a seat. Do you want a cup of tea?”
“No thanks, I’d like to have your report.”
“Maybe something else? Stronger?”
The man pointed toward little table covered by some bottles.
“No, thanks.” Ennis stomach absolutely refused the idea.
“I’d save both offers for afterwards.”
“Please go on.”
Mr. Harris handed Ennis some papers. “You’ll find here what Lady Delmar did during the last two weeks, in great detail. The only missing parts are the hours she spent with you at your house.”
Ennis took the papers and briefly scanned them, it was a list full of teas and shops and parties.
“But where’s the proof?”
“Well, at the moment we cannot say we have a real proof.”
“I’m sure there must be some!” He was getting quite confused.
“I dare say I have a suspicion, Lord Delmar.”
“Who is it?”
“Lady Delmar is very careful in everything she does. Our men noticed that and reported back in to the office.”
“And so?”
“In our profession and with our experience, we have seldom seen somebody so …let’s say … cautious and meticulous like your wife. It’s a strange behaviour. Very strange, I’d dare say.”
“Mr. Harris, I don’t understand the point you’re trying to make here.”
Ennis started closing his fists nervously. Mr. Harris really was a reticent man when dealing about business.
“My point is that we propose to you that we continue the surveillance for two more weeks. We wanted to discuss this matter with you directly, before you could consider us unprofessional.”
“Do you think there will be some results?” Ennis was tired now and refused to argue further.
“Like Mr. Morris, our founder, always said, proof is fruit, each one matures in its own time.”
TBC
Chapter 18.
This is the next part of an AU/AU, a tribute to a great short story and a marvellous film. Please have mercy, I’ll try to update ASAP!!!
Timeline: before the introduction chapter, we’re swimming between end of 19th and beginning of 20th century.
Thanks as usual to all of you who read and posted a review. It is so important for me.
Disclaimer: intellectual property of Ms. Proulx, no commercial use, no copyright infringement.
Special thanks also this time to my dear Beta Sam, her help and support is really precious for me.
Ennis asked Lord Alcott’s advice in finding a reliable agency and was instructed to contact an office in the Knightsbridge area, where he was introduced by a young clerk to a polite middle aged man, who listened to Ennis and quietly took note of his requests.
Everything seemed very aseptic and formal; the man, Mr. Atherton, opened a brown folder and assigned a number he asked Ennis to remember well. It was a security system, he explained, to avoid using the real names of his customers. The numbers were kept in a locked box the combination to which was known only to Mr. Atherton himself and his business partner, Mr. Harris.
Mr. Atherton promised Ennis results in two weeks and refused the offer of an advance payment to hurry up the investigation.
Ennis left the building feeling relieved and ready to meet Jack in a shop in New Bond street. Ennis had decided Jack needed a new wardrobe and planned to visit his traditional men’s shop in London.
So Jack was waiting for Ennis at the shoemaker; the owner, a short, middle aged Welshman, was already studying the frame of Jack’s foot. He greeted Ennis as soon as he entered.
“Good morning, Lord Delmar!”
“Good morning, Mr. Jones.”
“It’s always a pleasure to see you.”
“I’d like to come and buy here more often, but the quality of your products is so durable…” he stopped smiling at Mr. Jones, who was glad to receive Ennis’ appreciation and thanked him politely. Ennis was used to ordering only one new pair of boots every year, but he very much liked Mr. Jones and his shop, full of leather and with the smell of wood and polish.
“I’ve already shown your brother-in-law our styles models and now that I have his lasts I can prepare everything you want.”
Jack stood up from a large comfortable armchair and pointed a pair of black boots. “That pair would be good.”
“Very good choice, Mr. Twist,” Mr. Jones assured.
“Yes, Jack, but you need a brown pair, too. For when we go… hunting.”
“Lord Delmar is right, the pair you have chosen is excellent for evening events.”
Jack was not at ease, it was his first time in such a place and the day before, when Ennis had talked about new shirts, trousers, jackets and ties he had tried, in vain, to protest.
He always used to dress in black with a white shirt, provided by the house when he was a servant or by Lureen’s maid when they lived in Baltimore.
Thankfully, Ennis had mercy on him and took a boot from a shelf. “I bought this type two years ago and was very satisfied.”
“I think I’ll follow your suggestion, Ennis.”
Mr. Jones took note of Jack’s choice and assured them everything would be ready in ten days.
Ennis and Jack reached the shirt maker after a five minute walk; Ennis prompted Jack to order first a dozen white shirts.
Jack still couldn’t believe there were people used to buying so many items of the same kind. While they were strolling around the streets, he saw other gentlemen - alone or with ladies - going in and out of the shops, while clerks took their purchases to the carriages parked on the street.
Ennis swore their last stop for the day would be at the tailor’s shop, where he wanted to introduce Jack to old Mr. Plant, who was still managing his family business at the age of 82.
The oldest son of Mr. Plant, Thomas, suggested to Ennis a private meeting for the next afternoon, because unfortunately Mr. Plant Sr. was busy at the moment with two American businessmen who were choosing their brand new English jackets and trousers. The Americans were speaking with a loud tone from one dressing room to the other in the back, and Jack recognized their accent as Texans. People in the oil business, he presumed.
Thomas Plant’s attitude told Ennis - without words -that it would take more than wearing traditional and respectable clothing to improve the position of those Americans in London society.
Ennis and Jack decided to take a short walk in Hyde Park, but soon it started raining, so they took refuge in a small and clean tearoom, just opposite the Underground station.
Later they had dinner in the gorgeous club’s dining room, at the same table with two venerable gentlemen who were acquaintances of Ennis’ grandfather.
Jack very much appreciated their stay at the club, he liked the solemn atmosphere of the building, the two drawing rooms with large and comfortable armchairs, the sense of freedom given by the absence from home. London was so different from Baltimore, it was a bigger, huger, larger city than he had imagined.
On their last evening in London, the weather was quite warm, so Ennis proposed a walk along the Thames. They crossed some quiet and narrow streets in Pimlico to reach the river and walked toward Chelsea Royal Hospital.
Jack was strangely silent, Ennis noticed, apart some occasional comments about some stunning views from the quays.
“Thanks, Ennis.”
“You shouldn’t thank me.”
“I’ve spent some beautiful days with you, this city is so extraordinary and I’m happy to visit it with you.”
“When I was younger I hated it a lot, but now I’ve grown to like a short interlude of city life…. although I’ll never trade my home for a house in town.”
“That could be good.”
Ennis was deeply surprised by his lover’s words. Did he misunderstand Jack and his desires so much? He was sure Jack adored the county life, or had the years in Baltimore changed his vision of the world?
“Good? What do you mean?”
“It’s not important now.” Jack’s gaze was captured by something on the other side of the river, where the woods of Battersea Park were slowly fading in the evening summer light.
“You’d prefer to live here? If that’s so, I can afford a proper house. We could...you could stay here whenever you want.” Such words were painful for Ennis, who had made up his mind to live his life with Jack, always.
Jack realised the confusion his words had created and after a brief scanning around to be sure it was dark enough and nobody was around, touched Ennis’ arm.
“I don’t care where I live. What I want is to be with you.”
Ennis and Jack returned home with some presents for their children, including a new wooden horse for Bobby. It was important for a young gentleman to start riding soon, Ennis assured Jack.
Alma was back, too, and her younger brother with his brand new wife were guests, but Ennis wasn’t disturbed by them or by his wife.
Jack was unaffected by Alma, too. He often spent the day at his farm with Bobby and his parents.
It was hard to have Ennis so close and so far away at the same time, but Jack tried to resist, because the promised reward could to be so sweet.
At home, Ennis waited anxiously for Mr. Atherton’s report. His suspicions about Alma were growing every passing day.
When Mr. Atherton wrote he had some information, Ennis returned to London, with the official reason that he needed to search for a suitable apartment for Alma.
At the office, Ennis climbed the stairs as fast as he could, he wanted to know immediately. Mr. Atherton was away so Ennis had to speak with his partner, Mr. Harris, a more jovial and smiling man, with thick moustaches.
Maybe it was a good idea to be different from the absolute stiffness of Mr. Atherton.
“Lord Delmar, please take a seat. Do you want a cup of tea?”
“No thanks, I’d like to have your report.”
“Maybe something else? Stronger?”
The man pointed toward little table covered by some bottles.
“No, thanks.” Ennis stomach absolutely refused the idea.
“I’d save both offers for afterwards.”
“Please go on.”
Mr. Harris handed Ennis some papers. “You’ll find here what Lady Delmar did during the last two weeks, in great detail. The only missing parts are the hours she spent with you at your house.”
Ennis took the papers and briefly scanned them, it was a list full of teas and shops and parties.
“But where’s the proof?”
“Well, at the moment we cannot say we have a real proof.”
“I’m sure there must be some!” He was getting quite confused.
“I dare say I have a suspicion, Lord Delmar.”
“Who is it?”
“Lady Delmar is very careful in everything she does. Our men noticed that and reported back in to the office.”
“And so?”
“In our profession and with our experience, we have seldom seen somebody so …let’s say … cautious and meticulous like your wife. It’s a strange behaviour. Very strange, I’d dare say.”
“Mr. Harris, I don’t understand the point you’re trying to make here.”
Ennis started closing his fists nervously. Mr. Harris really was a reticent man when dealing about business.
“My point is that we propose to you that we continue the surveillance for two more weeks. We wanted to discuss this matter with you directly, before you could consider us unprofessional.”
“Do you think there will be some results?” Ennis was tired now and refused to argue further.
“Like Mr. Morris, our founder, always said, proof is fruit, each one matures in its own time.”
TBC