.
The silent question
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"So, got any progress?"
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Thomas was fixing his tie when his sister asked. He looked down, clearly troubled."Not yet?"
"She is not the correct choice," he stated. A rasping sound was heard, and then footsteps coming his way. Thomas grew nervous as Lucille approached him.
"Haven't I already told you she was?" she whispered in an authoritative tone and grasped Thomas's shoulder to turn him around. "The younger one is naive but sheltered. At least the senior travels often... we could blame her death on some kind of accident,"
It could all be prevented. Somehow he knew Amelia wasn't one to leave those kinds of things to chance. At the lack of her brother's answer, Lucille continued, "Amelia Cushing will be your target. You have to hurry and find a way to make her love you,"
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Thomas turned to look away. It was all for naught; Amelia will not fall in love with him. She will not fall in love with anyone. His stomach churned; the sudden need to vomit overtaking him. That morning, he had kept quiet after her words, he had stopped questioning. He avoided her guilty stare and had preferred to talk to Edith until they decided to leave. It wasn't until he and Lucille returned to the hotel and he looked up at that forsaken painting that he understood what he was feeling. It was resentment... just like the burning desperation of a child that has been presented with the most beautiful toy and then forced to watch as it was given to another boy, unable to complain...; to the boy with cold dark eyes.
And, those dark cold eyes keep haunting him; maybe ever since he knew who they belonged to. Lucille had said that he, Harrington, had been at least 15 years older than Amelia. The sudden need to know invaded him once more: ¿Were they engaged?... ¿Did they managed to marry? If that was the case... for How long? The image of that sad smile reminded him that Amelia hadn't forgotten her previous love. His stomach twisted again. With chagrin, he reminded himself that Harrington was the type of man she favored: a callous soldier, a strong leader... the embodiment of what he could never be.
He felt like a failure, maybe more than ever before. At that moment, he wanted to forget she ever existed. He wanted to court Edith sister if only to spite her. He wished to make her feel jealous. He wanted to hear he was better than that picture on the wall. He wished to not see her ever again, and at the same time, he wanted to. He felt like a fool, he felt like a mess. He wasn't sure what he wanted...
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"Thomas,"
Lucille called out to him, but her baby brother said nothing. She moved then to use another tactic. She cupped his face and turned him to make him look at her. She smiled, "Just this once... and we won't have to do this ever again,"
He looked at his sister and his distress must have shown in his expression. Lucille gave a resigned smile to him and pulled down his head to kiss his forehead... Oblivious of the real reason Thomas showed that lost and desperate look on in eyes. He tensed for a small second and then relaxed under her touch. "Please, trust me. This will be the last time,"
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"I'll need the ring," his voice trembled and was less audible than a whisper. Lucille looked at him. She was about to protest but sighed. Moving to grasp the large ruby that rested on one of her fingers, she pulled out the ring and gave it to Thomas. He turned it around his digits before he was pulled from the chin to stare at his sister once again.
"I'll want it back, you hear me," she said in a warning tone. Thomas only nodded, not understanding why would Lucille remind him of such a thing? She always ended having it back. Thomas took one of her hands and grazed it against his own lips as a sign of farewell. Then, he stepped back and grabbed his jacket and a stack of papers. Thomas walked outside the suite and kept his expression grave, his step quick. He passed down the main hall without a word to the Hotel Manager. Cold dark eyes followed him to the exit and Thomas only tried to ignore them.
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"It seems the tobacco farm had been very productive these past years. I'm proud of you Amelia,"
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The young woman grinned happily. It wasn't often she got such open praise; it wasn't often said praise came from William Ferguson. The old man smiled playfully at her, looking at the detailed reports in Mr. Cushing's desk.
"Thank you," she said smugly. He huffed and turned to the papers once more.
"How did you like that kind of business?"
"It was not as time-consuming as I thought it would be. The long periods of farming made it very relaxing, and the workers are honest and loyal." she commented with a little smile, "I learned quite a lot about crops and plagues.. so it was an interesting experience,". She smiled, keeping to herself the new friendships she made along the way. Instead, she moved to signal a part of the report. "Ah yes, we got the shipment from a new variety of leaf and we have been testing it at the greenhouse. It is far more fragrant but the crop costs are a little higher... we could use it for an exclusive brand of cigars,"
"Cigars?" asked Mr. Ferguson, intrigued. "You don't plan to expand the business from exporting leaves to a full-scale fabric,"
"No! Of course not..." She said, but added a little while later. "Well not yet", and Mr. Ferguson guffawed "but I've been talking to some workers and they would be willing to dabble in a small atelier for pre-order, hand-made cigars," she said, raising her eyebrows and smirking at Ferguson.
"You would have to travel to Vera Cruz more often,"
"I wouldn't really mind..."
William Ferguson smiled fondly. "I wish your grandfather could see you now...," he said suddenly and Amelia looked up, surprised. She had met him, but she had been very young and he had died too soon. A sad smile appeared in her face and Mr. Ferguson took the liberty to raise his hand and tilt that little chin up. "If he ever knew his granddaughter would be taking over his beloved business so dutifully, he would never have given it to your father first," She laughed.
"I wished I'd known him better,"
"I've worked with your family for almost my entire career. I can say with certainty you take after him more than you take after your father," he said, smiling. Amelia answered that smile until she saw him frown and look troubled. She grew serious and that only put him more nervous.
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"What is it?"
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Mr. Ferguson fixed his collar and cleared his throat. "Well," he said looking at her briefly, "I know you trust me, Amelia. And as your lawyer, I can't warn you enough about the latest project you are getting yourself into,"
So it was that conversation again. Amelia exhaled, her back muscles had cramped because of the tension and now they felt sore. "William, I appreciate your concern... but I thought we had this sorted out; we are taking precautions in case the worst happens," she tried to reassure him. The use of his name had the man look at her with open worry. "What is it that you fear so much?"
"You know that being subtle is not my biggest forte," the old man said. Amelia couldn't help but smirk. "As an old man and an experienced lawyer, I've seen these kinds of stories unfold too many times,"
"Stories?"
"One aristocratic but poor man finds his way in the heart of a wealthy young lady. What starts with good intentions ends up in a long battle to retrieve what said man had managed to take away out of her generosity," He explained. Amelia frowned confused.
"But my 'generosity' comes along with a healthy amount of fail safes, and I'm not doing this out of pure charity either," she explained. Ferguson cleared his throat.
"I think he wishes to settle down on another kind of contract. One that can't be easily undone by conditioning clauses," he elaborated.
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Amelia's expression closed up after that. William Ferguson noticed and restrained a knowing sigh. "You are assuming I'm romantically interested in him. Or that he is interested in me," Amelia said, not noticing how her voice suddenly faltered. She huffed and took a deep breath, suddenly getting very straight. "I must inform you that I am not the wealthy lady he fancies,"
"Carter doesn't think the same,"
"Papa?" she exclaimed, not realizing the childish nickname she gave to her father, "No, you are mistaken. He is concerned about Edith. If there's any sign that Sir Thomas is romantically interested in a female, it has to be in Edith."
"He has more to gain courting you," He concluded. Amelia couldn't help but share an outraged look at the old lawyer. Even so, William Ferguson didn't seem repentant or intimidated in any way. "Carter is a cunning man. He will not take any chances with any of his two daughters. And despite all the reputation that you try to build around yourself, Amelia, you are a beautiful and kind woman. Soon enough, proposals will start to appear again,"
"Well, I'll have to refuse them, just like I did before."
"You can't refuse them forever. Marriage can also be a financial expansion that I'm sure you won't be able to resist," the lawyer smirked. Amelia glared at him, not ready to give up the fight; but that was not the intention of the old man. This one smiled with infinite patience, as an uncle would to their spoiled niece. "If I decided to disobey your father and to bring up this conversation was because I deemed it important to put you on notice of the situation. You are now alert of the Sharpe's intentions and I hope you'll be cautious," he explained calmly. Amelia was preparing herself for another retort but frowned instead.
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"Disobey my father?" the Eyes of the lawyer shone in mirth at her noticing. "He didn't want me to know what he thought?... Well, That simy cannot be! He has reminded me how much he doesn't like Thomas every hour of the day," Amelia exclaimed half amused, half exasperated. But then, her smile washed away. As if hit by a revelation, she squinted her eyes, "William?"
"Yes, Amelia dear?"
"Where is my father at the moment?"
"Downstairs, in the lobby."
"Who is he with?"
There was a trailing silence in which Ferguson studied Amelia, before answering in an almost professional manner, "He is settling business with Mr. Holly,"
.
A short but meaningful silence ensued. Amelia opened her mouth, only to close it again. Finally, with her eyebrows burrowed she said, "Holly? The private investigator?"
"The one and only," Mr. Ferguson confirmed.
Amelia started pacing back and forth. She tried to think of the face that came with the name... she had seen him sometimes. Mr. Holly, an unscrupulous man who made a living by destroying marriages, invading people's privacy and allowing blackmailing to be untraceable.
A sense of dread lodged in her stomach. Her father had hired such a man to investigate Thomas. Thomas... who had been already humiliated more than once by her father; who wished to open up a way for himself and only received contempt. He was being so unfair, too unfair; only because Thomas was aristocratic? But what if the roles were reversed and she was the one in need of a chance. If she knew what they did... she would never forgive it.
The lawyer saw how the rage Amelia felt rose to her face. But just as fast as it came, in morphed in shame. Amelia had grown incensed at her beloved father, over a stranger, over Thomas. Her cheeks colored the deepest red, her eyes showing her disorientation. William Ferguson looked at the display in both sadness and relief. He caressed his aching knees and moved to stand when a knock on the door interrupted them both. Jeanne appeared from the other side of the door.
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"Miss Cushing,"
"Jeanne, what is it?"
"Sir Sharpe is here looking for you miss, he says it is important," Amelia gripped the hem of her bodice a bit too tight; she didn't want to see Thomas in at least a week... She needed to talk to him immediately. She turned her unsure gaze to Ferguson, who only got up and walked to her.
"We are finished here, Don't you think, Miss Cushing?" The old man asked, standing next to her. "Jeanne, tell... Mr. Sharpe that Miss Cushing will be soon joining him in the lobby," The secretary gave a look to the young woman, who nodded; then Jeanne disappeared to do as she was told. Ferguson put a hand on Amelia's shoulder.
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"I only wish to add that my concerns don't mean you should condemn Mr. Sharpe forever," Amelia turned to him surprised, "I'm content knowing that you'll be alert and notice the red flags IF they appear,"
"Yes, I understand," she said, once again looking down in deep thought. But just as the old man was to walk away, she turned to him, This one lifted his white untrimmed eyebrows in answer, "William, I wish to hire Mr. Holly as well. Whatever information he gives my father about Mr. Sharpe... I want to also have it in my power," She finished determined. A burst of small laughter came to her in response.
"I suppose the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," he commented and Amelia sighed, trying to not get annoyed. The lawyer put a hand on her shoulder and walked to the exit, "I'll see it done, as always,"
"Thank you, William. Please take care," She added, feeling she had been too harsh on her old friend. This one turned to wink at her.
"I only wish the same for you Amelia,"
She smiled fondly and the white grey head disappeared after the wooden door soon after.
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Amelia paced a couple ou times before walking to the door herself. As she reached it, she caught her reflection on a window pane. There was the look of a woman in battle with herself... she thought. She wished to believe Thomas was good. She wanted her father to accept him. She wished for the baronet to court her little sister and make her happy... she secretly longed he would court her instead.
At that last traitorous thought, her movements stilled. She remembered Edith's wistful expression after they returned from their promenade at the park. She remembered herself eight years ago in a cold night, when that wistful expression she once whore was torn apart by a pair of dark green eyes that would look at her in the deepest sign of pain, desperation and madness.
At that flash on memory, as it always happened, a shiver would ran down her spine, her lower lip will tremble and her eyes would show the panic she felt inside.
It could never be. She promised herself that, she knew that it lead to nothing. It had to be Edith. And with that thought repeating in her mind, she stomped down any traitorous thought before she opened the door and exited the office. Amelia walked forward, resolute until she reached the stairs and, as she walked down, spotted the figures of her father and Thomas himself.
Imperceptibly, they would look gazes, and both will try to ignore the impossible wishes taking lodge in their hearts, as one and the other met with determination and uncertainty.
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With a contented sigh, Edith added another chapter to her ongoing work.
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It had been a surprise for her when her father had brought one of the typewriters at home. She had welcomed the surprise, as much as she wished to go to her father's office and work from there, Amelia was too much of a distraction, and now that she was in production and not translation, she needed the quiet.
However, it was with a little sadness that she accepted her fate. The chances she had to be able to met Mr. Sharpe were slimming.
It should embarrass her to admit so openly that she was interested in the quiet and mannered gentleman; at least, she had been yesterday, but as the time passed and she confided more in her own thoughts, she knew that denying realities would do her no good. She was interested in the mystery that was Thomas Sharpe, and she wished to see him again.
Their first encounter had been odd, to say the least. She was suspicious of that sudden interest in her literally work, but those fears had been lost when they met once again at the park. He came over to her, asked her for her progress and took a while to read it all. He asked sensible questions and even complimented her narrative style with his sister. No person that was feigning interest would go that far on their pretensions. He was sincere, Edith liked that about him.
He was also gentle and kind. He readily offered to help Mimi, her rebellious sister. When she offered a picnic for all of them, she simply knew that Amelia would find a way to do everything by herself as she always did. She was even nervous when Mr. Sharpe offered to accompany her, he didn't know what he was in for... Amelia could even shrug him off rudely; it was what she often did. Instead, she accepted his help, and both returned carrying the chairs and basket. Edith had turned almost tomato red at the look Lady Sharpe sent their way.
She unconsciously smiled, that day had been more than pleasant. Once she and Amelia returned home, she felt with a new kind of energy, all bubblery and electrifying. She couldn't sleep that night, she had amusedly told Mimi every little praise, every single comment Thomas had sent her way about her novel. Amelia hadn't said much, she felt tired. After she left, Edith had remained wide awake, looking at a dead butterfly that Thomas had put in between pages. It was white, with yellow and black borders, Thomas had said it reminded him of her. And, as she went to sleep, she looked at the candle on her nightstand, and the memory of the waltz they danced together made her hairs stand on end.
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Thomas, Thomas.
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The sound ot the front door told Edith that her sister and father had returned for supper. With a quip, she closed the typewriter and walked out of her room and down the stairs. As she reached the lobby, she collided with Carter Cushing. She opened her arms and gaver her father a loving hug and playfull kiss on the cheek. At the affection, Carter chuckled and asked, amused.
"If you keep greeting me like that, daughter of mine, I think I'll never go back to work," Edith was about to comment, when she looked behind him frowning.
"W-Where is Mimi?" And Edith knew she made a question she shouldn't have done. The content expression in her father's face washed away faster than running water. She frowned worried, her father looked so serious, "Something happened to Amy?"
"No... no. She is fine, it's just..." her father commented, the serious expression changing fast into... a pout? Edith urged him to go on, raising her eyebrows. Carter let out a sigh, "She will have supper with Mr. Thomas at the office,"
"Oh," Said Edith, a dumbfounded expression on her face, "Well, she must have an important reason-"
"Hmph!... More important than having supper with her family," Carter Cushing grumbled while going to the dining room. Edith followed closed behind.
"Well... Why did T-Sir Thomas went in the first place?" She corrected herself fast. Both sat and Jane put out the third set of cutlery that was already on the table.
"He had brought a 'report'... about the scale measurements of his machine. I left them working the detailed finances with Ferguson," letting out a sulk at the empty space to his left.
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Edith couldn't help but smile amused. Father had always had a soft spot for Amelia... but it didn't bother her. Amelia had been almost like a son to her father, the fact she had been away for five years only served them to realise they missed her. Of course, she understood what her father was feeling. She would be sulking too, but she knew Amelia was a free spirit, and this behavior wasn't out of character at all.
Noticing his daughter smiling at him in mirth, Carter smirked, "It seems that Amelia's absence is not affecting you as it does to me, daughter. Something good happened today?"
"It had been an uneventful morning," she answered, taking a bite of her meal, "I'm almost done with my novel, and Jane had arranged Amelia's clean dresses," her father nodded approvingly, but still sulking. "Amelia used to eat at the office all the time. The only difference being that you preferred to stay there... Would you hear what I think, father mine?"
Her father stopped eating, suddenly looking exposed. Edith smiled further, her father was only jealous Amelia no longer needed him to be a successful investor; he had been left aside as she worked, when it had been the other way around when Amelia was a child. And now that she had her father at the dinning table sulking, she thought he looked positively adorable. It was a side of him that, apart from her mother, Edith knew almost no one had met.
"Will it be pleasant to hear?"
"I think you are jealous," Edith said, a playful smile on her lips.
"Bah!," her father said, leaning on his chair, "Just what I needed..." he exclaimed, but his annoyance was only feigned. Soon after, he sheepishly looked at his daughter, "I can only hope I'm not that obvious," Edith giggled and possed a hand on his forearm.
"Your secret is safe with me," her father hummed, and kept on eating. Soon, the main dish was puta way and Jane came with peach parfaits as desert. Edith looked at the sweet pastry in delight, she had to admit, a favourite of hers.
"But, one reaps what he sows... i suppose," he commented, Edith turned to him, frowning "After all, I had insisted Amelia to find a suitable gentleman that would finally wake her affections, enamour her, make her happy..." Edith smiled fondly, "But... with Thomas Sharpe,"
.
Edith stopped eating, the pastry suddenly souring in her mouth. With her heartbeat suddenly rising, she schooled her surprised expression, and turned to look at her father, her eyes moving fast to spot any kind of ruse. Carter Cushing hadn't noticed the effect his sudden comment had on his daughter. He looked down at the parfait, not completely sure if he would eat much more of it, his smirk ironic and resigned.
"What... what do you mean?" Edith's voice trembled, she gripped her spoon a little tighter, "Amelia is... is in love with Thomas?"
"Love is a strong word. I highly doubt Amelia feels that way, but there has been a proximity," he explained troubled, "They had... converged. Now it is clear to me as I saw them working, Amelia respects this man, trusts him... maybe too much. And I can't felt but feel he is not the right man for her. There is just... something I don't like,"
Edith looked away, suddenly feeling nauseous. She had only heard part of her father's worries... the first part. She stayed unmoving until the great clock sounded and she almost jumped out of her seat. Carter Cushing looked at the clock and got up.
"I took too long, I'm afraid I'll have to go and meet your sister," He announced, going over to her. With a chort farewell, edith turned to him with a trembling smile. Carter, being the busy man he was, didn't notice his daughters distress, and soon was gone.
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Edith remained on her seat until she no longer heard the horse hooves on the pavement. Then, she rose abruptly, the chair falling and clattering behind her. Edith paid it no mind, and rushed out of the dinning room... past a confused Jane, and up her room; locking it behind her.
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The clock on the wall resonated with its three chimes. It was the latest Amelia had ever eaten; Willian had already deserted them, expecting to continue either later that day or tomorrow. She looked beside her, Thomas was still absorbed in his part of the financial report. She sighed, tired, it was expected for them to stay and finish. Yet, she felt she wanted to leave this for another day.
Surprisingly, despite the latest revelations her lawyer had confided with her and the strange shift in Thomas behaviour yesterday; work has been the same. Thomas had greeted her politely and focused solely on the paper he had taken with him. The full designs of the machine, along with some calculations and the manufacturing quotes. Her father had looked at them with all seriousness, it seemed Carter Cushing was finally impressed by the knowledge of the young baronet. A final economic report had to be made to establish the real investing amount and create the contract. William chimed in, but what started with full energy was now downing to it's final forces.
Amelia was brought back from her thoughts when she heard a tired sigh, much similar to her own, and the creak of a wooden chair. She looked beside her, Thomas let himself fall over the big chair, his posture relaxed, legs stretched, head back. He looked like a dead man. Suddenly Amelia found that highly amusing. Feeling watched, he lifted his head to the side, colliding gazes with Amelia. This one smiled openly, and Thomas only let his head fall back again.
"We can call it a day if you want, it's getting late," She offered. A smile appeared on Thomas's face.
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"You are right, I'm spent,"
"Your brain has gone dry?"
"Probably... certainly," Amelia laughed. Smiling, Thomas got straight once again, and started putting the papers in order. "You Americans sure are lucky, these are almost half it's price here,"
"Resources are cheaper, most of the actual metal is sent to England. But we can be certain that manufacturing in England is still better," she commented, looking at a design, but suddenly frowned, "Even so, we need to measure these again. We can't be too cautious, if they don't fit..."
"Yes. I had that problem countless of times," he admitted. Amelia nodded, and smirked at the awkward silence that formed now between them. The first one of the day. She moved to also sort her own stack of papers when she felt a gaze upon her. Not understanding why she was suddenly nervous, she turned to look at Thomas. This one had a gentle smile on his face, his arm supported his face while on the chair rests.
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"W-What is it?" she asked.
"Nothing just..." Thomas hesitated, she could tell and the moment she realised she had seen that insecurity before, she berated herself. "I wanted to thank you,"
"Thank me?" she looked down at the papers, "For this?"
"For everything," he concluded, serious. Amelia gave him a little smile. "When you stood out for me; you didn't know me... and yet, you willinginly saw something in me that others hadn't,"
"Well... I'm not that much of a philanthropist. I just, I wouldn't want something like that happen to me. I've got my own share of contempt and bigotry and I know how frustrating it can get,"
Thomas said nothing. His smile faded, but he didn't look offended. Amelia sustained his gaze for a moment, but soon looked away... feeling nervous and guilty. She was being analysed, as she often did with others. With a mental note to do it less often, she got up and Thomas did the same. They left the papers in her father's desk and moved to exit the office. As they reached the entrance of the building, Amelia let out a relieved sigh.
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"Well, I'm starving. What would you like to eat?" She asked amicably. Thomas made a face.
"I'm fine with whatever you want to eat,"
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Well, that wasn't much help. Amelia mused about going to a restaurant with American specialties, but it was too obvious of a choice. She then wondered what would Edith and her father have at home and that made her remember a smaller version of herself, Mary on the kitchen, and a good plate of Alfredo pasta. She smiled.
"What do you say to Italian pasta?" she asked, and wide eyed at the sudden change. Thomas's face lightened, his expression willful and expectant, like a child that was about to be spoiled by mere chance. She resisted to urge to giggle, fearing he might take it like mockery. "Then, you mind if we take a little walk? I now of a good Italian restaurant not far from here." Thomas noded, and they turned left to reach the main avenue.
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"If your expression is any sign, I'd say you like Italian food,"
"I do like Italian food. Most things italian actually," He commented with a smile.
"Oh, I'm more of a French girl myself," Thomas lifted his eyes in boredom. "You don't like France?"
"I was expecting something more eccentric," Amelia gasped indignated, Thomas limited himself to smile.
"But France IS eccentric! The medieval castles, the operas, The Louvre Museum... C'est la belle epoque Francaise!," She expressed vivaciously, Thomas nodded.
"You like that kind of entertainment then," Amelia smiled.
"I've always wanted to assist to one of the World fairs. When I was younger and the first one ended, I feared I would never see one again. But it was been going on and on... it must be Amazing,"
"I cannot tell you I've had the pleasure to visit one, but i think the same as you... The technological advances they show must be quite interesting, Like the Eiffel Tower. Did you know it was constructed on Iron beams alone?"
"I've heard of it. It's said the tower is the tallest building in the world,"
"It is. It had caused some controversy, the structure looked unstable in first examination, some even said the weight would not let the constructor finish ir... but that is ridiculous, for example, the Duomo is one of the biggest religious monuments, it's almost pure marble, and it is certainly not sinking,"
"The Duomo? You mean Milan's Dome?" Amelia asked. Thomas nodded, and she blushed, "I must confess I've never seen it. Not even in paintings. But you've been, haven't you? What is it like?"
"I would take your breath away. The basilica rises by white columns that almost reach the sky. every one has a saint on the top, and the stone is sculpted in forms so intricate and delicate that it almost looks like if it's made of the richest lace," Amelia smiled, they stopped to cross the street, a small restaurant with an exterior lamp showed that it was open, the suggestion of the day, a seafood pomarola was on the front. "Then you enter, and there is marble everywhere. All types and colors and shapes, the floor is even made with marble shapes as a wooden jewelry box would,"
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They greeted the maitre d' and this one guided Amelia and Thomas to a small table for two beside the window, the late sun fell nicely on their forms but not faces. Leaving the menu, the maitre d' excused himself,"
"Trully, Europe is not called the old world for nothing. I wish I could visit Milan someday... Paris too,"
"And I wish you'd think of me to be your unconditional guide in such an adventure," Thomas commented, with a genuine smile.
Amelia's lip twitched. Suddenly feeling silly and happy that he made such a request. It would all be different if Thomas was with her, visiting those amazing places... and not Sebastian, who prefered to lock her behind golden bars. At that open realisation, her expression almost soured. Lately, she had him on her thoughts too often. forcing a little smile, she looked at Thomas.
"I would love that," she commented and then hid behind her menu. Not noticing the sudden serious expression of her companion. "Well, I'd love an Alfredo pasta, What about you?"
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"...you are doing it again,"
Amelia looked up, and met the serious expression of Thomas. He hadn't even opened the menu, his expression a mix of worry and annoyment. Amelia swallowed, she felt like an admonished child. And finally, she recognised that expression, it was the same that he whore once they returned to Edith and Lucille in the park; the expression he used when he wasn't avoiding her. She looked down, discouraged.
"You are one of the few who confront me about it. Having said that, you are the only one that insists to know," she let out a sigh, bracing herself, "And... you are right. I do this often, but I guess... I could try and explain some things,"
Thomas analysed her admission for a short moment before saying, "I will not force an answer out of you,"
"I know you wouldn't. But I've been closing myself off of people that I care about... and that has been hurting them. I could see it, you know? I did something that upset you back at the park the other day,"
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A waiter chose that moment to appear. He offered some wine, which Thomas chose proficiently. Then he asked what would each have and Amelia looked at her menu.
"How about... garlic bread for entrée and Alfredo pasta," She looked at Thomas, who opened the menu for a brief moment before turning to the waiter.
"Delle fettuccine alla bolognese per favore," the waiter smiled and excused himself. The silence ensued and amelia almost wished to comment on the fact that Thomas did speak Italian and avoid the other conversation entirely.
But that would upset him, and she would contradict herself.
"As i said before, I'm willing to answer somethings,"
"Just now, Why did you suddenly looked so sad, when you were so happy? It almost seemed you had bad memories about Europe,"
"That's... that's because I've been to Europe, specifically England... a couple of times. I think I mentioned it back at the Mc MIchaels party,"
"I apologize, I forgot completely," Thomas said with a little smile, "You mean... you visited England With Edith? She told me before she has never-"
"No, not with Edith," Amelia moved fast to say. Taking a deep breath she continued, "I believe you are familiar now with the painting on the main hall from Harrington hotel," Thomas accented, Amelia took another breath, "He is Sebastian... Sebastian Loyd Harrington, the original owner of the mansion that is now a hotel,"
"At first I was confused. I couldn't understand the nature of the relationship you had with the... gentleman," Thomas hesitated to say and Amelia let out an ironic smile.
"Oh no, he was no gentleman. He was brash, temperamental and smothering; but also generous, adventurous, brave," she looked down in both deep in sadness and happiness, "He was a free spirit. It was actually an insult to call him a gentleman, father liked that about him," Amelia fidgened in her seat, feeling suddenly very exposed.
"You were close," Thomas Commented. Amelia nodded.
"It was complicated, a thin balance within... tenderness and exasperation," Amelia's gaze went down, her brown eyes filled with sorrow. She said anything more, and almost as if sensing that she would not speak more of her relationship with Sebastian, Thomas cleared his throat, "And... you traveled with him?"
"I had... I mean, we had some relatives at England. An old aunt, when I was younger Sebastian would take me. But it was often to stay at Grannie's home. He was busy with his superiors, I was never allowed to visit any place of interest in England. So even if i know England... I really don't know England; or any other place in Europe,"she joked, giving Thomas a little smirk. This one also wore a small smile, then he huffed.
"You have no idea how much I understand what you mean,"
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The waiter returned, this time with their meals and the wine. Amelia moved to let the food be served, the smell of the freshly made white sauce filled her with a sense of security. She looked up at Thomas, who also looked at his food with appreciative fascination. They both started eating, the waiter took that opportunity to serve them both a galls of wine.
"What do you mean, you understand?" Thomas looked at her and then at the waiter. She understood at that moment that he was waiting for the man to leave... and that maybe this information was as private as hers was.
"My father didn't like children," he began, "Lucille and I... we stayed at home when there was some kind of invitation back in London. Even then, we stayed at our room most of the time, this is the reason why I haven't learned almost nothing outside of Allerdale Hall until I turned 12,"
"12?... w-what changed when you were 12?"
"Father had died two years ago. That year mother had an accident and died," Thomas said as a matter of fact. "Lucille and me... we were separated, I went with a relative by the coast, Lucille she... was sent to a boarding schools until we were of age,"
"I'm sorry to heard that, and I'm sorry about your father," she said, suddenly everything coming together in her mind. That's why she always felt some kind of kinship with Thomas, that's hwy he always had a kind of containment around him. It drove her to spoil him, give him what he hadn't had as a child; ...it wasn't exactly pity, it was more like sympathy. She also understood why Lucille had that raw strength around her, she felt sorry for anything she had to suffer. "I've never been to boarding schools, I had private teachers instead. I can't imagine how that must be like; but I don't understand why you were separated."
"Our relative couldn't keep us both," Thomas said fast. Amelia understood it was not a subject he wanted too much to talk about.
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They ate in silence after that. It was not unbearable, but there was a certain kind of tension. Amelia was almost afraid to look up and collide with blue-green eyes, his words dangerously dancing in her head.
.
I think you, Ms. Amelia, would also have high chances of drawing the affections of a respectable man
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Suddenly, her cheeks colored. She also remembered her answer. What irony it was..., now the silent question chased her like a plague.
If that respectable man was Thomas... Would she reject him? Did she really want to?
She looked up, Thomas was almost finished with his food. He looked more relaxed than she felt. He was looking outside the window, his eyes shining green in the setting sun. Amelia's lip trembled, when the answer to that question started to form in her mind and she panicked. Thomas was meant to be with Edith right?
Right?
"If you want a taste, all you have to do is ask, I don't mind," Commented Thomas with a michievous smile
Amelia passed from being mildly flustered to heavy blushing in no time. She stuttered, completely out of her sudden display had Thomas laughing. She pouted, it served only to Thomas's mirth.
"How about a fair exchange? Maybe that way I wouldn't feel so much like a child," she commented and Thomas shook his head, amused.
Taking their forks, both turned around the pasta and them moved to exchange them. Thomas, suddenly very animated, exchanged a look with Amelia and she understood the silent message. Feeling a lot lighter, she smiled too.
"A votre santé,"
"Alla tua salute,"
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Amelia let out an appreciative moan. Thomas had a hard time eating and fighting a giggle. He nodded and turned to look at her plate.
"It's good,"
"It's my favourite. Mary, my nanny, used to make me Alfredo pasta every time I took a nap, slept in and missed dinner. I haven tried Bolognese that much before, it has a strong flavor,"
"It's a classic, and it varies quite the lot from one province and another, specially because of tomatoes,"
Amelia nodded impressed. The mood had lighted so suddenly and so easily. She smiled internally, feeling that maybe she hadn't need to be that panicked in the first place. they finished the wine, and the conversation turned more plain. Amelia tried her best to forget the day at the park, it seemed Thomas was satisfied with the little explanations she gave him, and she let the subject go with a little chagrin. It almost seemed like he was willing to leave her alone and now she wasn't sure she wanted to.
Having finished their wine, the waiter came back to ask if they would be interested in a dessert, however it had turned late, and they didn't think going back to work was worth it. Therefore, they preferred to pay the bill, Amelia did, and then went out. The Hotel wasn't far away and yet, Amelia wanted to accompany Thomas and then take a cab herself. However, Thomas preferred to walk, saying he wanted to get to know the place and he offered the carriage to her instead. As Amelia was climbing to the carriage, thomas asked the driver to hold on a moment and approximated to the window. Frowning, Amelia stuck her head out, Thomas took that opportunity to grasp her hands. She frowned, a question ready on her lips.
.
"Before you leave, I want to tell you," he began, Amelia could tell he was suddenly nervous. She nodded, a reassuring smile, "I believe you have an amazing life ahead of you. You are intelligent, generous and unique; remaining alone to the memory of anyone is far less of what you deserve,"
"Thomas-"
"Having said that, I want you to know that my feeling for you won't change, what ever you decide. I only want you to know that I'll wait for you, t-that I want to wait for you,"
Amelia looked at him. Thomas looked down and, Amelia could almost swear he was fidgeting. In a brief moment, she had the thought that Thomas looked younger than before, maybe even younger than her. After a pause that seemed to go on forever, she said, "The day after tomorrow my father will hold a party at our house... a welcome party for me," she began. "I would love for you and Lady Lucille to come. I would, I would like to give you my answer then,"
Thomas looked surprised, he hold Amelia's hands tighter before he nodded with a solemn expression. Amelia gave him a little smile and let go, with a little knock she signaled the carriage to go and she gave the shortening form of Thomas a little glance before she looked forward. After arriving home and greeting her father, she asked for Edith... a little distracted. Her sister had remained in her room and wouldn't go down for dinner. realising her supper was too late, she didn't want a dinner either. Telling Jane she would remain in her room, she climbed the stairs.
When she arrived, her eyes immediately fell on the small suitcase she carried. For a moment her face remained expressionless, but soon contorted in the anger that came from accusation. she moved to lock the door of her room as she always did every night. Ignoring the small book that rested inside her suitcase, she prepared to sleep.
The silent question that plagued her mind came back, and with sudden determination, she decided she wouldn't mind.
.
.
.
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