Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgotten

"Lady is it? Would you listen to that. Lady Anne I am."

Death By Love

Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgotten

The Devonshire is an enormous property of palatial proportions. Ivy grows over white stone walls hanging down over window openings. On each of the four corners, circular towers serve as observation points. One can see a full two miles of the greenest and most well manicured lawn. Beyond that is a forest of tall, ancient trees. They encircle the estate like a thick green natural barrier.

Walking up the entry way is akin to walking a passageway through time. Large cobblestone walkways, built and designed by the ancestry of the now diseased, and great Lord Bailey, led to an arched door made of native wood from the nearby forest. It stood directly in the center of the main wall where two centurion guards stood on either side. They appeared as though they had just popped in from Buckingham Palace. One might expect to see the Queen herself, had she not been in London.

Anne and Pearl arrived in a horse drawn carriage. The road that led to the house was long and narrow. It eventually passed by a courtyard and in front of The Devonshire before making a large loop back around to the main road.

As the carriage came to a stop, Charles, Pearl, and Anne were greeted by a walk-man.

“Invitation, please.” he said.

He is very dignified in appearance, and seemed to take his duties most seriously.

“Yes,” replied Charles.

Charles failed to follow normal protocol by not showing the walk-man the invitation first, which irritated Pearl to a great degree.

“Charles,” she replied, “He wants to see the invitation. Take it out of your pocket and show it to him.”

“Oh yes,” Charles responded, “Of course, how silly of me; the invitation.” He reached into his pocket and fiddled a bit, not able to find it.

Pearl, however, was a woman of action. She would not fooled by Charles' games. She grabbed him by one hand and reached into his pocket with the other and produced the needed invitation. She handed it to the walk-man and politely replied,

“Here sir. I apologize for my husband. He is a good man, just a bit common I'm afraid. I'm sure you understand.”

“Yes Ma'am,” answered the walk-man, “I'm a bit common myself.”

“Ah,” smiled Charles, “A man after my own liking.”

The walk-man guided them to the main entryway where he passed them off to the head butler, who announced their arrival.

“Sir Charles and Madam Pearl Hampton and their niece Lady Anne, from the Americas.”

“Lady is it?” Anne snickered. “Would you listen to that. Lady Anne, I am.”

“Shh, Anne,” scolded Pearl, “Someone might hear.”

“What difference does it make?” asked Anne.

“Lots,” replied Pearl. “First impressions define you from the start. Its always important to make a good first impression.”

Anne turned and smirked quietly,

“Well... seems I'm to be on my best behavior then.”

Anne looked into a large room greater than any she had ever seen. Straight away, and at a far distance, was a double stairway that spiraled upward to a second floor balcony. To the left of the stairway was a grand stage were a stringed quartet played Bach, or Beethoven, or perhaps Tchaikovsky. Anne couldn't be certain of the composer, her knowledge of the great writers was lacking. Her domain was the ability to reign as The Pumpkin Queen back home in North Middlebury. That, by itself, was all that separated her from her kinsmen. It was as close to royalty as she would ever come..

To the far left of the great room was another enormous space. Inside was a long hardwood table decorated with the finest of everything imaginable. There must be at least seventy places set for honored guest. Anne had never been to such a fine gathering. She prayed she would not break some well established rule of etiquette that would forever stain her place in this strange and foreign land of Kings and Queens.

To the right was another grand room highlighted by a pure white grand piano. Along the walls were paintings from some of the greatest artists of the time. Anne thought she spotted Vermeer’s, Girl With a Pearl Earring, but she was so far away, she couldn't be sure. It had always been one of her favorites. She had seen copies, but never the real thing. She was hoping this one was real.

On the floor of the great room were skins and furs of various animals that had been hunted down and killed by Sir Wilkinson during an African Safari nearly a decade ago. Above a mantle of an enormous fireplace sits, nestled safely on a rack, the weapon by which Sir Wilkinson was able to bring down his prey.

Anne viewed this spectacle contemptuously.

“Why,” she wondered, “would there be any need to take down a magnificent beast such as an elephant, whose only defense was to stand as still as possible only to be shot down by a hunter hundreds of yards away.”

In her mind there appeared to be no purpose to it.

She said nothing of it, of course, for fear of insulting their host. That issue had already been discussed earlier and she was not about to test it.

So, for the time being, she would let it rest.

Charles, Pearl, and Anne were led to the great room where couples were already dancing.

Pearl grabbed Charles by his hand and replied,

“A waltz, Charles, I just love the waltz. Come, let's join them.”

“But,” replied a reluctant Charles, “What about Anne? She'll be all alone amongst strangers.”

Pearl pulled at Charles' sleeve,

“Come on, she'll be fine. I'm sure some handsome man will wisp here away before too long.”

At that, Pearl and Charles were gone, swept away by a sea of swaying bodies.

Anne stood by and watched when from her left she hears a familiar voice,

“Well, here you are.”

She turned, and with some dismay, saw, standing beside her, Mr. Grimswell.

Although, at first, she was put off by him, she had to admit, at the same time, to feeling some sense of relief.

Here, in this land so foreign, she had found a fellow countryman.

There was something strange about him, something different, something she hadn't noticed during their first encounter.

The smug, self assured, arrogant man he once seemed to be now appeared somewhat tamed in nature. He looked to be a broken and sad man.

“Why Mr. Grimswell, I travel practically halfway round the globe, and here you are. Are you so desperate that you would follow me here?”

She looked at him disdainfully,

“So, to what do I owe such pleasure; or...should I say, lack thereof.”

He smiled and scoffed at her remarks,

“Still, as always, I see.”

“Well Sir,” she replied, “you didn't leave much to be remembered by during our last encounter, should I expect anything more?

Tell me, what does truly bring you here?”

He turned and pointed to a tall, extremely thin, young woman with golden ringlets of hair that bounced up and down like springs as she moved. She was not unattractive, but, at the same time, had not the face which launched a thousand ships either.

“Circumstances,” replied Grimswell. “Far beyond my control I fear. Megan, (pronounced mee-gan) my bride-soon-to-be, so it seems.”

“Why Sir,” replied Anne, “I be thinks you would be dancing on clouds, and yet...yet I sense some sense of...of,

Anne was unable to come up with just the right response before Grimswell broke in.

"Yes,” Grimswell replied, “you would be well within your senses to make such observation.”

“What is it, Mr. Grimswell, do you not love her?” asked Anne.

Mr Grimswell bowed his head and replied,

“Love, I fear, plays no roll in this affair.”

Anne looked at him curiously and inquired,

“Then what, sir, what possesses you to marry someone you don't love?”

Suddenly, with a gleeful look in her eye, she covered her mouth, which had fallen agap, and she teasingly giggled,

“Oh dear sir, I see it now, it's plain as day. You got caught with it in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

She looked up at him and smirked with too much satisfaction at having discovered poor Grimsweld's situation.

“It's true then, isn't it. Please, dear sir, tell me I'm wrong.”

Grimswell glanced across the room and then back into Anne's pale blue eyes,

“I liked her well enough in the beginning. She comes from wealth, a great deal of it. I thought, in time, I might come to love her, but now I'm not so sure.

As for Megan, she  receives a share of her inheritance when she is wed. The rest she receives upon the birth of her first child. It seemed a profitable venture for both our good at the time. We agreed mutually to became engaged.

Soon afterward, we announced our impending wedding.

And, well, the rest is as you have guessed.”

Anne could not help but be amused by Grimswell's predicament and laughed quietly,

“Well then sir, seems you've gotten what you've deserved all along. And I, for one, am glad for it.”

Grimswell hung his head and murmured,

“I am punished far too much Anne,” he commented,

“The woman is a wretched, miserable individual. My life, I fear, will be bloody hell, from henceforth.”

“As well it should be sir. For all your past sins you must pay, and pay you will.”

He looked at her pathetically and replied,

“But this? Dear Anne, haven't you an ounce of sympathy?”

“Sympathy is for the weak,” she announced.

“But I do have sympathy, however, sir. My sympathy is for that poor child coming into this world knowing that you are it's father. That, in and by itself, is a sad, sad hand to be dealt.”

Grimsweld looked down and groaned,

“I suppose you're right then. We do reap what we sow.

My seed is planted and I alone must deal with it.”

“Not alone, sir. You have Megan, and her wealth, along with all your in-laws. But most of all, sir, you have a new child to look after. See to it sir, see that it lives a better life than you.”

Author's Note

A chapter taken from Death By Love

Reviews

[emmajoy]

May i call this a romping tale?! It reads so smoothly, Ii reached the end quickly after the start! Think the font and lay- out had/hassomething to do with that.. but also the concise placing of words too.

The style of dialogue really gets going as you get into the story, that after your great descriptions of the venue and the walk-man (nice humour there!) You unravelled the past acquaintanceship between Anne and Gruiswell and laid a 'pretty' moral at the end! .

(Just after Pearl and Charles go off to dance, two-thirds into the tale, you use the word globe but omit the 'e'.)

[Woody]

you're a darn good storyteller, Mike. I like everything about this one, descriptions, dialogue an' all.
I don't see much of you lately. I hope you're fairing well.