3

A Chapter by Britwit

Chapter 3

Exhilarated from my little prank I tried to regain my breath as I walked amongst the rose bushes. It was just about dusk, the sun setting off into the far west. The rosy glow of the sky sprinkled a pink dusting over the garden. The warm air was infectious, a rarity on a May evening in foggy old London. Taking a quick glance about me I could see that no one was around so I sat down upon a nearby bench and pulled my boots off and then my stockings. My bare feet sighed in relief and welcomed the soft grass as I stood up and began to wonder around, not taking care mind you, to keep the bottoms of my skirts mud-free.

I picked a particular yellow rose from a bush, sniffing it and being careful to avoid its thorns, I twirled it around in my fingers as my feet carried me over to the greenhouse. I stood outside the greenhouse, at first admiring the tomatoes and other exotic plants growing inside, but soon my attention wavered over to my reflection. My hazel eyes bore into me, inspecting every inch of my heart-shaped face. I stepped back to get a better view.

Sighing, I wondered if a man would ever think me lovely. My features weren’t classical I didn’t have bone china skin, or the blue eyes. I pushed the sleeves of my dress down so that my shoulders gleamed bare in the dimming light. Then slowly, I began to pull my constricting bun out of its meticulous form, bobby pin by bobby pin until the tumbling cascade of golden brown hair fell about my shoulders; I shook my hair out and carefully fixed the rose into my hair.

“Hello, I’m Ada Leighton; I’m delighted to meet you.” I said to the pane of glass, even giving it a curtsy. “And how are you today?” I twirled around so that my skirts kicked out. “Good evening, I am Miss Leighton; it’s a pleasure,” this time I bowed, “how do you do?”

“I’m very well thank-you very much.” Said a tall figure behind me.

I shrieked. I had been so engrossed with my pretend ‘how-do-you-dos’ I hadn’t noticed the looming shadow beneath the weeping willow tree. He stepped out from behind the tree’s curtain of branches. Turning to face him, he had an amused expression upon his face, almost smug.

“I, you, uh, you have no right to be here!” I exclaimed tongue-tied. He said nothing, only continued to stare at me with that curiously annoying smile. I then realized the state of my disposition and hastily pushed the sleeves of my dress back upon my shoulders. He averted his gaze as I did so, still smiling.

“I’m sorry Ms. Leighton, I didn’t mean to disturb you” he chuckled turning his head to look back at me. His eyes were so green, penetrating my own. For a moment, we just stared at one another. His eyes twinkled, like he held a secret that nobody else knew and that he wanted to keep it that way. After what seemed like a century, I broke the strange staring abyss.

“Who are you?” I demanded, completely disregarding all the manners my mother had taught me so well.

“Oh, how rude of me, I do apologize!” he exclaimed, clearly mocking me, “I’m Lord Ladeedah the third.” He declared adding an overly flourished bow.

“I see…and how might you have come to be here good sir?” I said coolly. He came up from his nose-to-ground bow and looked up at me from a feather of lashes, all the time that annoying smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Well I might ask you the same question Miss Leighton; out and about with no chaperone.” He continued to grin.

“This is my house and my grounds I think it’s a perfectly acceptable position to be in. I’m quite capable of walking through rose gardens by myself without someone watching my every move in the chance that some rouge scoundrel might pounce upon me and heaven forbid, threaten my virtue!” I said hotly.

His smirk grew to that of Cheshire cat proportions, as I realized what I had just said. A deep flush bloomed in my cheeks.

“Is that so? And how do you know that I am not that said scoundrel?” he chuckled as he moved towards me, “how do you know that I wouldn’t have you right here right now?” he was inches away from my face, close enough to count my freckles.

I was breathing heavily “How dare you!” I whispered. Yet behind his eyes lay a bluff, and although he didn’t think so, I could see it, plainly. I wasn’t about to let him get the best of me. I stepped forward, grabbing his hand, my lips a breath upon his; this is where he faltered, his smugness turned to shock and then to resignation. He leaned in to my advances and just as our lips were about to meet, I shoved him as hard as I could. He stumbled backward, tumbling down to fall flat on his bottom. I strode over to him and looked down on him. “Maybe it is your virtue that needs to be protected Lord Ladeedah?” I smiled at his dazed expression and stepped over him to fetch my boots and began to march back towards the house.

“Wait!” I heard a faint cry, “wait, Ms. Leighton!” I continued to walk towards the house never glancing backwards, swinging my boots in hand. “Wait!” he had caught up to me.

“Yes?” I said, not daring to look him in the eyes. For although I had bested him, I wasn’t so sure I could keep my composure a second time around.

“I am so sorry, that was very inappropriate of me. Not very gentlemen-like at all. Can we, um, start again?” I gave no answer, pretending to take interest in a near-by flower bush.

“What I said… what I did, it was… I don’t know what came over me…” he stuttered. At this point I looked up at him; there wasn’t a trace of smugness in eyes and his face was so earnest I couldn’t deny him.

“Well, it’s quite alright, I wasn’t exactly the lady myself now was I?” I said, letting a giggle escape my lips.

“No, no you weren’t,” he sniggered, his moment of sincerity lost. I pretended to be appalled, but secretly reveled in his frankness.

“But in all honesty I am sorry Ms. Leighton. And for what it’s worth my name is not Lord Ladeedah, or whatever I said, it’s Jack.” He held out a soot-covered hand which I shook heartily, having already forgiven him.

When I withdrew from the handshake my hand was dusted with a light layer of grime. It was then that I took in his full appearance; he was older than me, but not by much, almost two heads taller and he wore a suit several sizes too big for him with untidy stitches and tattered patches. His hair was an unruly mess of dark, black locks that even the night would envy and his face was coated with what seemed like years worth of grunge, dust and dirt. Yet, beneath that soot and shoddy clothing, he was still undeniably handsome.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Jack…” I ventured.

“Boone, Jack Boone.”

“Oh…” I stammered. His face was quizzical.

“Is something the matter?”

“You wouldn’t happen to be of relation to the Mr. Boone who has been talking to my father all this afternoon?”

His face clouded over with a frown. “I suppose that means you’ve met my dearest uncle then?” he mumbled sardonically.

“Yes, briefly.” A smile threatened to erupt on my face as I relived the moment of petty revenge in my head.

“I wish that there were no relation at all.” He sighed as he kicked a pebble, sending it far across the grass. I was curious to know more but his sudden sullen attitude told me I shouldn’t prod further, maybe another time.
“So I suppose that you’re waiting for them to conduct their business and then you’ll return home?”

“If you can call it a home,” He scoffed. The sun was dangerously close to disappearing completely behind the hazy skyline and here I was still standing in the lonely garden, talking to a somewhat stranger. It was awhile before he picked his head up again, shaking off the melancholy and wearing his smile once more.

“Isn’t it way past your bedtime?” he smirked, gazing up into bruise-purple sky, “we should go inside. Hopefully the men have finished their business, or perhaps my dear uncle’s already left and forgotten me, again.” He winked and held out his arm, ready to escort me up the worn steps. Ignoring his little jab, I took his arm gingerly and let him guide me up the stairs. When we reached the garish back door, he surprised me with a sudden small kiss upon my hand, “Goodnight, Ms. Leighton.”

“Aren’t you coming in?” I asked, trying not to let the disappointment betray on my face.

“No, no of course not, look at the state of me,” he held out his arms, with a devilish smile. “What would the neighbors think?” And with that he turned, strutting into the darkness, his hair being the first thing to merge with the night, clumsily whistling a jaunty tune.

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