Matrimony Homies

11: Courage (Harry)

Upon exiting the loo with an empty bladder and clean hands, I spy Loren talking to an elderly male. From the way he's pontificating, it's clear that he's our tour guide.

"That painting is by Louisa, the Marchioness of Waterford." The man stands near Loren as they gaze at a watercolour on the wall. Maybe too close? I'm probably feeling slightly jealous after the not-so-horrible morning we've spent together. "She untraditionally inherited the estate even though she was a second daughter since her elder sister sadly died first. Louisa would summer here at Highcliffe and winter in her husband's home, Ford Castle." Turning, he spies me. "Oh, there you are! Your fiancée and I were just discussing the painting here," he states unnecessarily.

Do I imagine the guilty look on the tour guide's face? Must be an aberration. And 'fiancée?' Why did she introduce herself that way?

"It's a beautiful scene," I murmur, knowing little about watercolours. Oil had been my medium the time I attempted to paint, and while it had been a fun and creative outlet, I haven't painted again.

"Shall we?" the gentleman sweeps his hand in the direction of a hallway, "I'm Reginald, and I'll be your ambassador this afternoon. Please be sure to interrupt and ask any questions that might arise."

His formal manner is such that I cannot fathom disturbing the man's flow. Weirdly, I've decided I'm not a fan, even though I have no basis for my harsh opinion. "Thank you, Reginald," I softly place my hand on Loren's back, steering her in the same direction. She doesn't pull away. Which makes at least three strange things in the last few minutes.

"This is the Wintergarden which can seat up to 110 guests." Curiously, he peers at the two of them. "You seem like the kind of couple who might have more guests..."

"Nope. Not us," Loren's response is swift. "We're only inviting the most important family and friends, so there will be fewer than 60 on our guest list."

"My, my. That is a surprise," Reginald tsks.

Proudly, I observe Loren as she nods to the man, speaking up for our needs (and Gemma's desires), "We want elegant but not crowded."

Opening the door to the room, Reginald waves his hand to allow us to enter before him. The room is stunning in its simplicity, and I catch my breath. Trading a glance with Loren, I spy in her eyes the same pleasure I hold. This castle is decidedly in the running for Gemma's wedding. There's a baby grand piano on one side of the room. Unable to resist, I wander to it and touch the keys, running my fingers over a few notes as a smile spreads under my (dare I say?) elegant moustache. I could play something for the bride and her groom. Maybe even write a song exclusively for the wedding?

"The piano is available for use during the ceremony, although a string quartet also sounds lovely in these acoustics," Reginald professes, clearly in salesman mode.

"Thank you," Loren replies politely, "We're not sure yet what kind of music we will have." She steps away from Reginald and closer to me, grasping my hand as I step away from the piano. Um? What prompted this odd behaviour? I would have bet that she wouldn't intentionally touch me unless absolutely necessary. Using my thumb, I stroke the back of her hand, trying to calm whatever demon has arisen for her.

"We have two chambers for your choice of reception location. With your expected numbers, you might prefer our dining room which seats up to 80 guests." Leading them through another door, he gestures around the space. "This is the Castle Bar where your guests can purchase drinks for sale, or you can provide an open bar. We often set up a photo booth out here if you're interested."

"Open bar?" Loren wonders. "There's nowhere for guests to sleep if they overindulge."

"Excellent point, pookie." Still unsure what's driving her, I attempt to slide the endearment in for fun. My reward is a smile from Loren, her lips turning up as she wraps her other hand around my mermaid tattoo and leans into my body. Another indicator that something is wrong.