"...and so I stormed off. What else would you have me do?" an irritated Tennyson seethed.
"What do you wish you had done?" Lord Grimsby returned.
Both men were savoring an aged port, and while Lord Grimsby lazily sprawled back in his chair, Tennyson sat hunched over and tense. He was officially at his wit's end, in desperate need of advice from a friend. And Sir Cartwright, besides being distracted by female pursuits, had less life wisdom to offer than Grimsby. Lord Grimsby had seen a lot through his years, and always managed to emerge in one piece and smiling. He was one of a select few people Tennyson cared for and trusted.
Anxieties swirled around Tennyson's mind. His Grandfather's lost will, the paper trail thus far leading to nowhere, being shot in the arm, kissing Josephine, and now striking Mr. Whitmore, a guest in his father's house!
Tennyson couldn't sustain any more blows.
"What do I wish I had done?" he repeated Grimsby's question. "Never been born? Never left my Grandfather's house, never met Miss Yorke..."
"Tennyson, we both know that is a heap of nonsense," Grimsby asserted, gesturing his half-empty glass towards him. "It is not like you to sulk around feeling sorry for yourself. Leave that behavior to the rest of us sad chaps. You are a man of action. A man of tenacity."
"As of late, the only thing tenacious about me is my endeavor to be miserable," Tennyson brooded, sinking further into self-pity.
"Why do you not ask the enchanting girl to marry you already?" Grimsby asked, and Tennyson abruptly looked up, surprised by the question. "Your father has finally given you a worthwhile gift in the form of a perfect bride, but you deny yourself. And I cannot gather why...I have been speculating, yet I am bewildered. And do not try to bamboozle me into thinking it is because she was your father's first choice as your wife. I am too clever for that."
"Firstly, you are not near as clever as you think. Secondly, Josephine is hardly perfect! She is obstinate and argumentative...and rarely serious. Sure, she may be witty and thoughtful...and so beautiful it almost aches to look at her..."
I am no better than Cartwright, the lovesick fool!
After spouting out his transparent and sentimental speech, Tennyson tried to redeem himself, offering, "It is complicated. And Josephine is but one of many complications."
Grimsby stared at Tennyson with narrowed eyes, as if sizing up his current mental state and finding it lacking.
"What?" Tennyson impatiently asked, uncomfortable with Grimsby's scrutiny.
"I want you to enlighten me. I can hardly offer advice without full knowledge of the situation. Besides, your complicated life is quite entertaining these days," Grimsby smiled, taking a leisurely sip of his port.
"I am thrilled my misery is an object of amusement for you," Tennyson sarcastically commented, before dropping his voice to a far more serious tone. "You know what my father is like..."
Grimsby cut in, "A selfish, violent tyrant whom would sell his own Grandmother for the right price?"
It was a dangerous observation for Grimsby to make, but sadly, an accurate one. Tennyson had become immune to the physical pain his father inflicted, but Horace Tennyson was capable of far worse than physical injuries. Charles knew Grimsby would understand his concerns for any future wife of his. Because any future wife of his would also be Horace Tennyson's future daughter-in-law. A frightening and undesirable position to occupy.
"Even if I wanted to make Miss Yorke my wife, I cannot. I never want her breathing the same air as my father!" Tennyson stressed, wringing his hands.
YOU ARE READING
Josephine's Lists
Любовные романыHave you ever wanted someone who doesn't want you? Miss Josephine Yorke hasn't, at least not yet. The beautiful Miss Yorke has been promised to a stranger for as long as she can remember, but Miss Josephine has no intention of following her controll...
