~25~
Ignoring the faint whispers, Garin (in Garin fashion) gave a distinctive rap on the French doors with his cane before entering. The room, (very much like the mistress of the house) smelled of gentle lavender and mid-morning air. A handsome carved desk against a backdrop of flowered tapestry, hinted at a feminine touch with its scented papers, dainty paper knife (a gift carefully selected and bestowed by her loving father), and a rare, fine, ivory case. Angelic paintings adorning the cream-papered walls gave an aura of benevolence which could explain the mistress' of Idleworth impressive aplomb whenever she resigned behind her desk with her crown of molasses piled atop her head with reserved poise.
Wade got to his feet as Garin crossed the threshold, his footsteps heavy upon the plush carpeting.
"Garin—?"
"I forbid you to do something so... reckless, sir!" He gave a stiff bow in Lisabeth's direction before turning fully to Wade.
"When we discoursed the evening of the ball, I felt inclined to think you'd settled your attention upon someone of-of...reputable standing! A soul of astute character and fortified mind! You've surprised me on many occasions, Lambert, but this is on an entirely different scale altogether."
To the doctor's annoyance, Wade appeared flummoxed in the highest sense of the word.
"What the devil are you on about, man?"
"He's referring to that cruel stone of glass on Anne's skinny finger!"
Three heads turned as Lori's flushed, wrinkled nose stood in the entrance, her fists clenched at her sides and spine as stiff as a board. Garin had a desire to shake her tiny body loose lest the child snap from the pressure of her fury.
"You simply must be mad, Wade!"
Her brother must have had the same thought as the Doctor for he now moved towards his sister, who ducked under his outstretched arm and dove at Garin's side.
"She hasn't got an ounce of brain! Why, she's...she's...," her eyes were aflame as she sought the ideal words to express her fury, "a rich repository of incompetence!"
Her choice of words had an expressive effect on those present, as it was truly something coming from Lori. Had the situation not appeared so dire (and really one could have cracked the tension as easily as eggshells), Wade might have congratulated her expanding vocabulary with gusto. However, her cold stiffness and the angry tears threatening to spill from her eyes made him rethink the idea.
Garin stole his attention with a grim look.
"Ah...yes, quite reasonably put, Lori." He gave the girl a side glance, which she ignored, sensing his slight displeasure at her interference. Garin fixed his topaz blue gaze on Wade once more.
"Lambert, I insist you reconsider your decision and implore you to act accordingly."
Raymond Lambert entered the room with his wife, shuffling her skirt behind him.
"What is the meaning of this?" came his cutting tone, taking in the awkward arrangement of the bodies within with Wade (the man inwardly groaned at this) as the primary target. Mrs. Lambert, forgetting the prickling words she meant to unleash upon her daughter, noticed the tension almost as quickly as her husband.
"Wade? Garin? Well? Answer my husband!"
"Anne's wearing Wade's ring, Mama."
Wade's expressive 'damn' went unacknowledged as the room stilled with the intensity of an expected thunderstorm before the spell broke like a violent tempest; Raymond Lambert, standing to his full height, demanded the meaning of Lori's words. This sternness was so unlike him, that his wife, the colour drained from her lovely skin, caught his sleeve as though to give them both strength and patience. Garin tried to soothe the situation by suggesting they discussed the matter over tea, while Mrs. Lambert's soft repetition of "By God, Anne? It cannot be true!" went unheard by all but the doctor. Wade's "Let me explain..." was received by none, but Lisabeth, her cold "Please do," sharp as glass shards. Lori was beside herself; having climbed onto the window seat, she drew her knees to her chest and pronounced doom upon everything precious within her sphere of existence, and stared at Wade's head as though she could burn a hole through his cranium.
YOU ARE READING
Bride of Choice
Historical Fiction[Cover Design by Angel S.] Wade Lambert was known throughout the enchanting countryside of Harwickshire by friends and relatives alike to be the perfect epitome of trouble. And his handsome features and air of sophistication did not help matters as...
