At The Gazebo

Chapter 2: Lord Christian Tennyson

No, it was not a wife that Lord Christian Tennyson was searching from that vast view of the gardens, but solace. Comfort from the few treasured memories of those momentous years in his past. A dear time, that had ceased to be, some twenty years heretofore.

The sight before him reminded him of those past days. The couples, the gaiety of the atmosphere and especially the gazebo some few hundred feet farther.

These memories haunted him frequently. And certain sightings often revived them afresh.

It was a past, of the happiest times in his life. Bliss, content and sweet hope were his room mates then. It was perfect in every sense.

Until the end of that happy time soured it all...

Oh, Why does the end influence everything from the start?

But even then, at those memories, his lips always managed to turn up into a smile. He smiled, that sweet sad smile even when a river of tears glided through his eyes. Even when, with each thought, his heart bruised further.

That very smile had graced his face at that instant as he stood by the ballroom window, unconsciously regarding the Gazebo at a distance.

Ah, but only a third-person could see the admiring glances that he had been receiving for that smile of his. The lasses, particularly the ignorant young ones, who apparently lack the knowledge that this man is not a bachelor, lingered their gaze hungrily at him. While the daring ones stage any of their business within his line of sight, glancing at him every so often in the hopes of catching his eye.

How easy it is to perceive one wrong. How easy to misunderstand.

For everyone, there stood a perfect gentleman by the window, smiling at someone or something that had been entertaining him. His smile only added to his allure.

But what was he actually like? And how did he perceive himself to be?

For the one with the immortal eye, there stood a man with sadness dripping from his features. His brows being slightly furrowed with a weight impossible to express in a human voice. His deep blue eyes, that reminded one of the oceans, glistened with the heavy tears of emotion. The smile in his face, which awed many, was seen by the one immortal, as a despondent tilt of the lips.

For himself, he was a man with not so great attributes and capabilities. His aforementioned greatness and success were for him, but lucky accidents in his life. As for his physical features, his nose was not so straight to him, his brows arched too much for his liking, his face was a bit too slender, his shoulders were stiff, his feet a bit too large and many, many more. He was just a human with insecurities like any other.

Even Though he seemed perfect to others, he never felt so himself.

In a vague sense, this was his description of himself. And no other person had or could have ever known this, for his external poise and confidence only but depicted a person of surety and self assurance.

This is what he had acquired after a long experience in the beau monde. Only then did he learn to hide his insecurities and fears behind a mask of oh such gaiety and confidence.

All in all, not considering how he may have been perceived, Lord Christian Tennyson was indeed a great man, yet not a perfect one, just like any other mortal being.

~

A/N
Many might find the writing style in this book a tad bit peculiar, thats because it is heavily inspired by my favourite authors of the nineteenth century. They did speak and write quite differently than how we do now a days.