Dear Readers,
Hello again! Below is another story I've been dreaming up for quite some time, and I could no longer help but post it. Every time I watch Mary Poppins, this story always comes to mind, and so I decided to finally go about starting it. While this story may seem like a oneshot, please realize that it will continue for just a few chapters. If you've seen my profile page, this is the "other story" I talk about writing before the sequel of Practically Perfect, Penned and Priced.
If you have read Penned and Priced, I thank you heartily and welcome you back! Just please realize, this story is notaffiliated at all with my previous Mary Poppins story. It is an entirely seperate entity. However, it is still based entirely on the Walt Disney movie.
And so, I begin the story. I know it may seem a bit unconventional, but I just could not help myself.
Thank you all once again! Please enjoy!
-Margo Duncan
When a dream falls within one's grasp, the atmosphere seems frozen in perfection. Thus it could be said the balmy summer evening and the social that unfurled atop it - for George Banks Junior, at least - was peerless to any other evening in a lifetime. Nearly every one of the man's friends and acquaintances in London could be found somewhere within the residence of the party's subsidiser, who himself was a long endeared and highly valued business partner of George Banks Senior. As if the copious stars were not enough, the great walled courtyard where he stood was illuminated with the light of the sitting room just beyond a pair of glass doors. These Mister Banks turned to for assistance in location an absent person, the piece de resistance of that blessed night, but the iridescent curtains stood guard against his prying. His brows contracted across his granite forehead in accompaniment with a scowl. Averting his attention from the group that surrounded him for but a moment longer, the wishful gentleman glanced over the occupants of the patio. Resined bows of the distant musicians could still be heard enticing sweet notes from the instruments they fed on, and several dancing couples had yet to flee the night air for the sanctuary of the home's interior where further amusement was to be found. The smiles and jewels of these remaining ladies helped also to expel darkness from the evening, but it was not until a moment later that a glimmer caught the eye of George Banks, causing him to confirm to himself that no other treasure could bring further worth to his life.
He allowed his attention to be brought back to the men that had congregated with him just in time to witness the approach of his vision to the nearest of them. The click of heels subsided and the conversation ended, all stopping to beam at the gold-clad beauty that dazzled the atmosphere with her sudden presence. She smiled in kind, but her eyes fell upon one man in particular. Past the most youthful and dapper she looked, away from those with the tightest bonds to aristocracy and power. It appeared that to her only George Banks existed, and when he extended an arm to her they silently glided away, desiring no additional company than each other.
"There's something I just don't understand," George confided in a whisper after he had pressed a side of his smooth face to the woman's own and, after finding himself in her gloved arms, allowed his feet to fall into the music's rhythm. His gaze fell into the ginger curls that draped her ear.
"And you're a clever man," she noted with factuality. "What could that be?"
George's unfocused eye caught the murky form of the group he had departed from as he swayed, and the smile that resulted was detectable by the lady in his words of reply. "I don't understand how it comes to be that a good portion of my acquaintances, consisting of those up to fifteen years younger than I - with greater fortunes and higher positions might I had - would kill for the attention of the woman who has given her heart . . . to me! Of all people!"
The pair continued to dance, though drew apart enough to view each other's faces. George continued to muse as his partner surveyed him. Starting from his slicked back ebony hair, she penetrated his inquisitive eyes with her own before glancing down the prominent slope of his nose to the rest of his soft and pallid visage. She had stolen his grin, which was now replaced with lips pursed in thought. The woman chuckled deeply, brining the man out of his reverie.
"Well?" He inquired. "Certainly you can enlighten me!"
"Again?" she groaned in mock exasperation before returning her own cheek to his. "Well, I suppose. It is fairly obvious, is it not? You are the only man I know who can accrue interest and then successfully invest it in worthwhile enterprises. What is most important, though, is the fact that you can do all of that outside of the bank as well as within it. You have a wonderful insight, Mister Banks, and now I'm done flattering you."
He laughed. "Oh, Mem!" He continued, tightening his grasp around her. "You are the only woman who could ever understand what I do. There's a whole world inside that bank, and look. It spills over to the world out here, as well. Just by looking at any one of these guests I could tell you what their bank statements and vaults contain. Wealth affects people in the most methodical and yet absolutely senseless ways. I see it every single day. I learn how people operate and how to play their little games. Oh, it's a horrid world, Mem, but it's all so intriguing! A bank is not entirely about rates per annum and abdonment and net change. Though I must say, it's quite easy to submerge yourself into all of that and never come out."
"Then it is my duty to make sure you never do," she insisted, serenely closing her eyes.
George's heart leapt into his throat. "You mean that, Mem?" He spoke his words into her luxurious hair. "You're not just leading an old fool like me on, are you?"
"I most certainly am not - though I don't understand under what pretenses you consider yourself old, Mister Banks. You speak as if you could be my grandfather."
"I could nearly be your father," George hurried to retort.
"And this fears you so much? You exude youth, Mister Banks. No, not when you're decorously conducting business or chatting with the bank officers, but every once in awhile - when you allow yourself to show some happiness - you get that boyish gleam in your eye. Or like right now, when you contort your face into that youthful sort of befuddlement."
George realized that the two had stopped dancing, and Mem, leading them away was once again smiling up at him.
"I love you, Mem," he insisted, linking the fingers of his hand with her own.
"Very good, George," came her nonchalant reply. "Because I love you with everything in my being."
As the two strolled down the garden steps, enough resplendent light and festivity could be avoided to permit for an affectionate parting. The love of George's life placed a hand gently on his cheek before pressing her lips to his own.
"Good night, George," she offered, an undertone of reluctance puncturing her words.
"Good night, Mem." Once he had spoken, the woman's hand began to retreat back to her side. George was quick to snatch it, however, and plant a kiss on its knuckles, thus extending the happiest night of his life by one more loving moment. For, in truth, it would end far too quickly.
It was long after George Junior's ears lost the sound of skirts rustling against the stone ground when he was met by none other than his father, George Senior, who had apparently exited the house looking for him, having completed his own affairs. Most of the party had made their exodus, and those that remained had all nearly surrendered to the night and gone inside. George Junior had at first, too, but his excited mind led him swiftly back out. For a long while, he had encountered no one in his pacing. That is, until the figure identical to his own - albeit more silverish and graven - stopped him dead. The father released a frightening sort of smile and clasped an arm around his namesake's shoulders.
"Thinking about Meriam, are you?" He would eventually ask.
"As a matter of fact I am," the younger George responded in a distracted state. "I suppose I should tell you before someone else does. She agreed to marry me tonight."
George Senior laughed, an act which proved just as chilling as his smiling. "Did she? Ah . . . if only I had known about this, I would have been able to intervene earlier."
Suddenly, the younger man snapped out of his stupor. "Intervene?" His father sighed and released his arm.
"My lad, you're thirty-four years old. You've waited this long to take a wife, you can wait a little longer - just until you find one who will better compliment your achievements so far. You've worked hard for the family name, I can't deny that, but I also cannot let you destroy what we and countless other Banks have dedicated their lives to."
"Whatever do you mean? There is no lady more preferable than Meriam! Her family's old money, certainly you know that. You've covetously maintained their account in our bank for years." While this quality certainly was not what attracted his love to him, George knew that it was logic against which his father could not mold an objection. At least, he did not think George Senior could.
"Her family's built on more than money, George. There's something queer about all of them, her too, and I don't trust them. They're very good acquaintances to have, but binding ourselves too closely to them would be a grievous error. You're not to further associate with that girl. There's some sort of funny business about them, and I don't think you should risk tarnishing your reputation, least of all the family's. You know the love I have for you, but it cannot be. Make your choice, and if it must be her, than I myself will have no option but to sever you from this family. Money can be acquired elsewhere if need be, my boy, but reputation? Not so easily."
And George did make his choice. He bided his time. Eventually life unfolded for him as his father wished it would, and life in the Banks family remained surprisingly pleasant for all. After a heart wrenching parting, his beloved Meriam was all but forgotten after he quickly took a more formidable bride. His father had been right, after all. Money could be acquired elsewhere if need be, but reputation? Not so easily. It was not until many years later, after George Banks Senior's death and several other radical alterations of life, that George Banks Junior found a flaw in such logic that indicated he had made a wrong choice. It would cause the memory of his Mem to commence haunting him. While reputation was difficult to secure anew, fated love was nearly impossible to come by a second time. This epiphany was aroused, of course, far too late to be of any assistance.