June, 24th
Margaret:
Henry invited me to Paris for my birthday, which is today, Sunday the twenty fourth of June. He's taking a course in tort law in Le Havre for the month of June; he sent the air tickets last week and we met here yesterday. We went to the Opera, had dinner under the stars and were tucked in bed early - quite an important detail for two early birds like us.
Things are so much smoother and easier with Henry now... much clearer, if you like. I like it crystalline. It's obvious to have a room each, to do things separately instead of being stuffed together. Breathing room is good.
It's still morning and we're taking a stroll around the old city. We had a coffee and a croissant and set out to walk around like tourists. In spite of being Sunday there are a lot of shops open and we get into a few to inspect the merchandise.
-"How come a beautiful woman like you is still single?", suddenly says Henry while looking at antique jewelry.
-"Henry, that sounds like a bad pick up line", I reply frowning.
-"Don't be vain", he scolds me with mock severity. "I'm serious. What's up with you? Where are your suitors?" he says and spies around as if paparazzi were stalking us behind the piles of old newspapers.
-"I have millions. That's what happens", I reply. Henry warned me when he heard about my fortune that it could make me target of unscrupulous wooers and I admit I'm a little wary. "Truth is, Henry, I'm not all that genial. I don't socialize with that many people, not people that I could date, really."
-"But hasn't been there anyone?" he looks up at me. "If you think I'm prying, then I should remind you that you asked this question first".
-"But you didn't truly answer me!" I laugh. "You weasel!"
Henry affects remorse.
-"It's that I'm a little worried about you, Margaret" he says fondly. "How about that man, the one at your father's funeral?"
-"What man?" I ask, even if I have a very clear idea of whom we're talking about.
Henry looks back as if I were a little dense.
Alright, I'm being a little dense.
-"Sir Guy of Gisborne with a haircut and a business suit", he clarifies, and then lets out a malicious chuckle. "Do I see Margaret Hale blushing?"
The impact of these words is that I blush even harder. Henry is having a field day with me.
-"Fess up, naughty girl!" he exclaims dramatically and laughs like an evil character.
I try to laugh with him but I can't. Ah... no. I can't laugh.
-"There's nothing to confess, Henry. I'm sorrier than you about that fact, for sure" I say while I experience the familiar sinking feeling.
-"What happened?", asks Henry curious and very tactfully.
I open my mouth to answer but no sound comes out. What happened between John and I? After a quick glance into my face Henry is back to the antiques and doesn't insist. He pulls up a silver ring with an ivory cameo I like and try it on. It fits and he pays for it, my twenty-fourth birthday present.
We walk some more and stop for lunch in an open air café.
-"I don't know what happened, Henry" I suddenly bring back the subject that's been on top of my mind for the past two hours.
-"With what?" he says disconcerted.
-"With the man at my father's funeral. I'm still not sure but I just know it... it was real and intense", and then just like that I start talking of something I've only discussed with people who are dead now; my mother, my father, Sylvia.
-"His name is John Thornton and he was my father's favorite student. They were good friends and he was very supportive after my mother died. I always thought... at first he'd always argue with me, it was like he couldn't tolerate the notion of agreeing with me", I lower my eyes to my new ring, "and thought he couldn't tolerate my person, but I was wrong".
I swallow and continue.
-"One night before my mother died, I was leaving the gym when I saw that two people were going to attack him. I did the most stupid thing I could do, this is, I intercepted the hit myself. Why didn't I alert him, why didn't I do something more reasonable?" I shake my head, "it was awful. Well, he came to my house the next day and asked me out. At first I thought he was being condescending and smug, but then I realized he was being quite sincere. I told him... I was cruel to him, I asked him who he thought he was to be so disrespectful".
The following part is not exactly what you'd like to discuss with a lawyer friend.
-"At the Accidents and Emergencies they gave me painkillers I shared with my mother. They were very effective but I couldn't get more just like that, so I contacted a drug dealer." Henry doesn't say a word and his eyes don't leave my face. "Turns out, the dealer got into jail right away and sang. He gave my name and I guess others too. A Police inspector came to my house and I denied everything, two or three days after my mother died. I didn't know it until much later but they were investigating people for drugs and prostitution charges and they thought that I was in for" to Henry's raised eyebrows I complete the sentence "the carnal business".
I take a sip from my glass of sparkling water.
-"It must be said that one of the things that irked me more about this Mr. Thornton was that everyone seemed to like him immediately. I thought he was being, I don't know, presumptuous or petulant, but thing is after I turned him down I realized there was a lot to like about him."
-"He's prime beef", says Henry. "It was quite noticeable, even from within the closet's darkness".
I chuckle at this assessment. For some reason there's always a food comparison that fits John Thornton.
-"Well, yes, he's..." I flush again remembering more than one illicit eyeful from yours truly, "yes, very good looking". Henry shoots me a derisive glance but I don't correct. "He's also a very good person. So, I noticed he sincerely regretted having asked me out, having even considered it", I'm so ashamed I could cry but I blink back the tears and keep talking. "Much later, the day before my father died actually, I found out that the only reason the Police had left me alone wasn't because of my convincing acting abilities but because of his connections. He meddled with the investigation, he... well, he did something - I don't know exactly what, and that's why I wasn't questioned again".
-"Wow", says Henry. "How very Mr. Darcy of him. I didn't know those people really existed".
-"Yes, but you see, Lizzie Bennet wasn't into drugs, she only had a wayward sister". I let out a sigh of defeat. "So, I made up my mind to thank him for interfering and apologizing for my harsh words, and even planned to invite him over for dinner as soon as my father came back home."
-"But he never came back", Henry finishes softly.
I bite my lips and shake my head, tears finally pouring down.
-"No, he didn't. The last time I saw Mr. Thornton was at the funeral. What could I say then? I'm sorry I behaved like a bitch but I'm not one?"
Henry bites and chews thoughtfully his baguette.
-"Have you called him?", he asks after a few moments of active munching.
-"No. I once started writing him a message, back in October or November, but never got around to complete it. It made me cry too much. I did send him one for Christmas but it bounced back. I took it as a sign... what are my apologies worth, after all? I'm sure he took all the trouble of stepping in for my father's sake rather for me. Better turn over that leaf, you know?"
I feel this subject is almost exhausted.
-"You know, Henry, I try very hard not to think about him" I say as a closure. "Because I don't understand him, and I don't want to read into his actions and jump into conclusions. He once had feelings for me and I didn't reciprocate. The only clear thing for me is that he behaved like a gentleman and I... I didn't and I regret it."
-"And that's all she said", quips Henry.
I nod. We walk around some more until we find ourselves at the door of a very picturesque bookshop named Shakespeare and Co. Henry has visited this place before and takes me in to drown my sorrows in culture or at least forget about them for a while. There are books and papers everywhere and this mess feels welcoming. There's a sign over one wall reading: "Be not inhospitable to strangers lest they be angels in disguise", to which I smile up. "Thank you", I say to myself, "I'll try to remember it next time".
Henry pulls a book by Anaïs Nin, a writer I've heard about but never read, and pages through it as if knowing exactly what's he's looking for. He finds it and folds the corner of the page, tucks the book in the crook of his arm and keeps browsing.
-"You said you tried hard not to think about Mr. Thornton", says Henry. "How are you doing with that?"
-"Terribly", I reply not lifting my eyes from the rows of books, "but let's not discuss it anymore, shall we?" I get old editions of Ted Hughes' "The iron man" and "The iron woman".
Henry assents and browses some more. We pay for our books and leave for the hotel, and then the train and plane that will return us to the places we call home these days.
Not really much else to say about it.
Note: This is the first of two chapters heavily inspired by the films "Before sunrise" and "Before sunset" (Richard Linklater, with Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy). Walking around an European city while you open your heart seems like a great plan to me.
The story "New Year's Resolution" by user ChocolateIsMyDrug uses the comparison of Sir Guy of Gisborne to John Thornton because they were played by the same actor in BBC adaptations. The characters, though, have little in common.
