Robbers
All characters belong to G.K. Chesterton and the BBC series Father Brown.
Inspired partly by "The Face of Death" episode.
Their very first meeting occurred during a late summer night on the grounds of her parents' estate. By invitation only, select individuals found themselves enjoying what was a rather breezy evening as they perused the gardens behind the manor.
Though, he was born with a mouth that lacked the conventional silver spoon of high society, his presence had still been requested by his dear friend Timothy; a man of tolerable social standing.
Arriving promptly at six o' clock, both men were escorted to the elaborately decorated dinning room, where both took part in a meal fit for a king. The discussion was lively to say the least, once the crowd learned of their seminary background. In lieu of current events, the men were subjected to a heavy round of theological questioning; a session, which spanned a good two hours. It would be determined much later, that nothing past, present, or future could ever hold a candle to this one debate. Luckily, both had escaped with their wits still intact.
However, it was some time later within the confines of the drawing room, that he found her; naturally surrounded by the town's finest lads. Slipping in quietly, he watched intently from a corner seat as she flirted endlessly with her admirers.
"Oh, please Greg!" she waved her hands carelessly through the air, "You bore me with that kind of rubbish. Be a little more original will you," She drawled, letting a sigh escape from her painted lips as she turned her attention towards another vying suitor.
Shock colored the gentleman's features and if a guess was to be had, Mr. John Brown could only think of one plausible explanation for such a colorful reaction; Greg was a complete stranger to the whole experience of cold rejection. The number of times that this man had ever been told "no" could quite frankly be counted on one hand.
First time for everything, he thought heartily and resumed his watchful glance
Rose-colored silk embraced her figure as she giggled and turned, trying desperately to escape the audience before her. Scanning the room for much more favorable conditions, it was decided that the lone figure seated by the fire would do just fine.
Daintily picking up the corner of her dress, he saw her mouth a few excuses to the hapless chaps before embarking towards his location.
Surely she is not sacrificing the attention of her friends for me? No! How presumptuous of you John!
Too involved with the carrying out of his own mental lashing, he failed to register the sound of scraping chair legs across the wooden floor.
"Penny for your thoughts Mr...uh," came the voice from beside him.
Jolted from the safety of his own world, he gawked helplessly at his new companion, but received an imploring stare in return. A sinking feeling anchored in the pit of his stomach as he realized that perhaps she was waiting for a response; had she just asked him a question? Horrified at his predicament, he decided to remain mute with the hopes that she would repeat her inquiry. She did not disappoint.
"Your name," she softly commanded.
"Huh...what...um...oh," he fumbled with his words violently before answering in whispered conviction, "John Brown. My name is John Brown."
Holding out a delicate hand in his direction, she responded in kind with "Lady Felicia."
Frozen with fear, he sat idle for a few seconds before gently encompassing the proffered fingers within his own.
You are on dangerous ground here. Stop while you're ahead.
Refusing to heed the advice of his innermost thoughts, he lifted her hand to his lips and placed a feather-light kiss upon her silky black glove.
You are going to be a priest. Remember? A priest!
Eye-shadowed lids closed briefly and he wondered how in the world just one short kiss could affect her so much. Five minutes ago, she was cracking the male ego like a seasoned squirrel with a nut; now she was melting into his touch.
Stop this...you have to...
"I, uh, need to go get some water. Do you by chance know where I can..."
"What do you do for a living Mr. Brown?"
"I am a student at the seminary; a fact, of which I am sure you are well aware."
"And why do you say that?" she challenged, "Because you saw me seated at dinner?"
"Well..."
"No," a finger shot to his lips, effectively silencing him, while she continued, "I honestly haven't the faintest idea what you or your friend discussed down at the other end of the table and I couldn't care less. In case you have forgotten, which I am absolutely sure now to be the case, I was deeply engaged in my own conversations."
He felt his face redden with embarrassment as she added, "Don't assume Mr. Brown. It will only lead to trouble."
"My apologies. I did not mean to offend," he squeezed her hand reassuringly.
"No harm done," her tone softened as she scooted towards the edge of her chair; knees bumped innocently against his own.
Becoming astutely aware of the close promixity now shared between them, he suddenly stood up and offered his arm, "Care to join me for a walk in the gardens?"
"I'd be delighted."
(A few hours later)
The clock read closer to midnight as the two made their final stroll up the gravel pathway; her hands wound possessively around his arm.
"Thank you so much for the chance to engage in such intellectual conversation," a grin pushed up the corners of her mouth as she continued, "It's been quite some time."
"Well, all I can say is that it was my pleasure to keep you entertained tonight my lady."
A blush crept up to the surface of her cheeks as she loosened her grip upon his person. The time for goodbyes was at hand, but neither had the courage to drown out a fire that would most likely never be rekindled.
"Again, thank you...for everything."
"Again, the pleasure was all mine," he smiled gently down at her.
Closing her eyes, she stepped boldly into his personal space; her arms coming to rest around his neck.
"Lady Felicia...please."
Her ears didn't know whether to categorize his words as a plea or a warning, so she selfishly chose the former. The decision was weighted and she knew it. The consequence of what she was about to do could either strengthen his choice of a future with the priesthood or break it into a thousand pieces of doubt. Could she live with that kind of responsibility?
Throwing caution to the wind, she shifted forward onto the balls of her feet and lifted her face up to meet his. Again, she heard a sigh followed by a "please" before her lips found the corner of his mouth. His body went rigid as he stepped away from her embrace.
Sorrow etched itself into the lines of his face, while traces of anger surfaced within his eyes. "You know what I am about to commit to in a few short months. Why?"
Why, indeed. Tears began to sting her eyes as she attempted to offer up an apology, but somehow the only compensation she could give was a shrug. He wasn't just another toy to be played with; to be won. What she said and did mattered to him, though his life was not dependent upon her presence. Truth be told, she wasn't an integral part of his motivation, which frightened her to some extent. Unlike most men, he had excused himself from the ritualistic dance of finding a mate. He had his eyes set upon Someone higher than she.
"I..I don't know why," her voice wavered underneath the lie that she hoped he would accept as fact. He didn't.
"This," he motioned back and forth between them, "can never be and I deeply regret putting you in the position to think otherwise."
"Don't do this," she warned.
Ignoring her pleas, he lowered his head and let a "goodbye my Lady" escape his lips. She could nothing, but watch as he soldiered on through the gate and out of her life.
(The Charity Masquerade)
"Maybe we should actually look for those feathers instead of lounging around with drinks in our hands. Don't you think Father?" Mrs. McCarthy made it a point to throw a meaningful glance towards her younger friend, which earned her an infamous eye roll.
"Just wait a moment," he replied mildly before adding , "Patience is still a virtue my dear."
"Indeed it is," came a wistful reply from over by the stone steps.
Looking up sharply, he caught sight of her dark brown eyes searching his form. It had been twenty years since their first encounter and though she had aged, her eyes still held within them the very same spark that he had had the privilege of witnessing so long ago.
"Yes," was all he could say to her. The past flashed through his mind as he remembered how both of them had fared after that night. He, of course, continued on with his studies at the seminary; a choice that led him into the priesthood. She, on the other hand, had eventually fulfilled the task of securing financial and social status for her family by marrying a man of her father's choosing.
Still, he wondered. What if I hadn't walked away that night? What if I had kissed her back? What if I had allowed her to be mine?
End