Love Comes in Three

Chapter Seven "The Townhouse"

            For the first time since London was mentioned I was happy to have come.  I spent hours upon hours going through the townhouse, finding anything that would remind me of my parents.  Anything that I could keep to myself.  There was a book of poetry on my father's desk with an old letter tucked inside, it was from my mother.  I was overcome with a desire to read it, but stashed it instead, saving that pleasure for later and instead continued my hunt for treasures.  Inside the bench at the pianoforte I found some sheet music with a note written in my father's hand asking my mother if she would play it for him when he returned from his trip abroad.  I wanted to hear the music so much that I decided to ask Faith to play it after supper that evening.  So many little things that I had not thought about including an old pair of gloves with the lace unraveling . . . something I did inherit from my mother was pulling threads when I was nervous.  I had many sashes that had the same problem.  I looked at the gloves and while they were probably out of date, I could not part with them.

            I was content exploring my mother's needlepoint basket when I heard Faith's voice, "What are you doing?"  When I turned to explain I saw that she was not asking me, but Percival who was lingering in the doorway.  He just smiled at me and I quickly turned back to the basket, stuffing everything back inside.  "Patience is looking for you, Percy, she wants to know long you'll be here . . . "

            I gathered my trinkets and left the parlor in haste, making my way to the stairs in hopes of finding someone who would point out my room.  "Not long enough . . . " Percival said as he turned and watched my escape.

            The servants were bringing in my trunk and I followed them to a quiet bedroom in the back of the house.  There was just one window but it looked out to a small garden and a bench.  I could be content here, I thought to myself as I sat on the bed looking over the book of poetry.  The hours passed as quickly as minutes as I leafed through the verses, noting that some pages shown more wear than others.  If I had not been called to dinner, I would have surely missed it.  As it were I found it difficult to leave my room, but one cannot go without eating.

            I was quiet as we dined, instead of listening to the conversation I was too busy noticing the decor of the room.  The paintings drew my attention as I thought that my parents would have selected them together shortly after they were married.  I wove overly romantic ideas in my head and pictured the young couple in the painting at the end of the hall going through galleries to find just the right painting for that wall.  Apparently I was so preoccupied that I had not heard Patience saying that she and Faith would be taking to the shops in the morning. 

            When I emerged from my room the next day I was startled to find that I was the only one there aside from the servants.  I ate quickly and resumed my exploration, intending to make full use of my solitude.

            It was midday before anyone intruded on my time.  I had found several other well-worn books in the library and was sitting under the window perusing the contents when Percival found me, "What is it with you and books?" he chuckled to himself as he leaned against the door frame.  "Perhaps I should be bound in leather if I wish your attention?"

            "Mr. Stanhope!" I said startled, picking myself up from the floor, "When did you get in?"

            "Just now," he sighed watching me as I stacked the books carefully.  "What would you say to some sightseeing?" he offered casually.

            "Thank you, but . . .  perhaps later?"

            "Turning me down to read more?" he inquired, a slightly hurt tone to his voice.

            "No," I smiled as I looked away, "it's just this is the first time I've ever been here . . . I'm just trying to see everything and find . . . memories."

            "Memories?  Of a place you've never been to?" he inquired.

            "Not like that," I explained, "things to remember my parents mostly . . . that painting in the hall . . . they were so young and in love . . . and it's been so long since . . . " my voice waivered remembering that four years have passed.

            "Oh," he let out a strange, almost amused, sigh, "in that case, I may have found something of interest to you."

            "Really?  What?" I asked as I regained my composure.

            "You'll have to come with me," Percival smiled extending his hand towards me.

            I looked at his hand and back to him doubtfully, "Where?"

            "You don't trust me?" he scoffed, "I promise you we won't go far at all.  In fact we won't be leaving the premises."  I reluctantly took his hand and he quickly led me out to the back garden, "See, we're here!"  He acted like he was presenting me with something exciting.

            "Okay," I paused looking around, "but I can see this from my room."

            "I know," he said looking up to my window as he leaned his shoulder against the tree.  I straightened up and walked towards the bench knowing that my cheeks were pink.  "But I'm sure you haven't seen this."

            When I turned to him he was tracing his finger over the rough bark of the tree trunk, with an amused smile that he wasn't doing well at hiding, "What, the tree?"

            "Are you always such a brat?" he laughed, "Just come and look."  He moved so his back was resting against the tree and he looked out over the little garden, "I promise I won't bite."

            It doesn't matter, I told myself, he's not for me.  I warily walked towards the tree and as I came closer to it, I noticed that some of the bark had been removed and a heart was etched into the light colored sapwood.  I gasped as I let my fingers trace over the names, Nicholas and Rebecca.  "They did this," I whispered against the tree.

            "An ongoing testament to their love," Percival breathed, "it's rather romantic to think this has been here for so many years."

            "Very much so," I answered in barely a whisper, "oh thank you . . . " I started as I looked up towards Percival only to have my words stopped by his lips.  His kiss was soft and gentle, I felt my eyes close before the nagging words began playing in my head again, he is not for you.  I quickly pulled away and when I turned from him I saw Patience standing in the doorway, her expression cold and grave as she just looked at us. 

            I covered my mouth with my hand and ran into the house, not stopping until I got to my room.  I locked the door and fell across the bed, repeating "He's not for me," over and over and over.