Love & Second Chances

Chapter Two - Garrett's POV

Memories of childhood swirled through my brain as I slowly descended the staircase of my newly purchased home. It felt as though it were all a dream. To think that I was now the legal owner of the house I had been born and raised in. My mind had not yet fully come to terms with that. The feeling of nostalgia was incredibly bittersweet. These rooms held many wonderful memories for me, but they also held terrible ones as well. I quickly shook the mental images from my mind, choosing to focus on the good instead.

I had been living in the house for close to a month now, although I suspected the town thought I had only returned a week ago, seeing as that was when I had been discovered by the nosey Mrs. Watson. She had not known who I was at first but soon recognized me, stating that I looked so much like my father. Being as curious as she was, she assaulted me with a carriage load of questions such as why I was back in Manchester, and where I had been these past years. I told her as little as possible, stating that I had repurchased the estate, and intended to make it my permanent residence once more. Fortunately, the workers had chosen to interrupt me at that moment, giving me the perfect opportunity to escape.

The state of the house upon my arrival was shocking, to say the least. There were cobwebs and dust everywhere. The floors and rugs were filthy, and parts of the house were infested with mice. When I first set out to find the people who purchased the estate from my father, I expected that someone would have been living in it. Apparently, the previous owners had intended upon living in it, but changed their mind for some unknown reason and let it sit uninhabited for the past six years. Needless to say, they were more than willing to sell it back for the original price.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I stopped briefly in front of one of the mirrors on the wall to ensure that my appearance was acceptable before heading out. With all of the work that I had been doing to maintain the upkeep of the house, I had neglected to shave for the past few days. While it was nowhere near to being classified as a beard, the stubble along my jaw was visible and not exactly the most proper looking. I shrugged it off. I had never been particularly keen on being proper.

When I opened the front door, I found the carriage waiting for me. "North to the Stanford estate, if you will," I directed the coachman as I climbed in and took a seat.

I was mildly surprised to be called upon by my father's old friend, Mr. Kenneth Stanford, and even more surprised when he handed me an invitation to a ball at his house. Mrs. Watson's news must have reached them. I was not expecting to be accepted back so easily. Truth be told, I had not expected them to even remember me.

It had been six years, but I remembered the Stanford's better than ever. Mr. Stanford had always been a strict man with an arrogant streak, but otherwise pleasant enough. Mrs. Millicent Stanford was a nightmare of a woman. I could not seem to forget her no matter how hard I tried. While I had never gotten to know their son, Daniel, I had been close to their two daughters. Though Alice was a bit too young at the time to form a lasting friendship.

The one that stood out from the rest in my memories was the eldest daughter, Elizabeth. I recalled that the two of us were nearly inseparable as children. The mischief we caused was more than enough to drive our parents insane. Of course, we also received a severe punishment after each trick we pulled. My memories with her consisted mostly of washing floors and being chased around with a stick. We were a bit unruly to say the least.

I found myself wondering; what was she like now? Six years left a lot of time for someone to change. Had her mother finally managed to mold her to her will, as she had often tried to in the past or did she still possess that stubborn streak that I liked so much? I hoped that she had not lost that, because I had never been fond of those who conformed to the standards of society. Perhaps that was just the rebellious part of me.