Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
A/N: I only got a couple of reviews asking for a sequel, but I'm posting one anyway. Why you ask? Just because. Thanks to silverfish, meg, and ruby gillis for their encouragement on Chapter 10 of 'The Wedding'. You people are awesome!
It was late evening by the time they arrived in London. Pat was exhausted and felt grimy from all her travel. Hilary kept glancing at her from time to time, worried. Pat just didn't tire this easily. But she had assured him that traveling just did that to her.
They went straight to the hotel. Hilary had a morning meeting with Mr. Parker Bowen, the man he had come to interview, and Pat insisted that he needed to go straight to sleep. Despite being so tired herself, she found she was too excited to sleep. After her bath, she went back into the room to find that Hilary, who had protested being ordered off to bed like a child, was sound asleep on top of the covers. All he had managed to get off was his shoes. She smiled at him and thought about waking him up so he could get ready for bed properly, but didn't have the heart.
Pat settled herself by the window and looked out at the nighttime view of London. She really was quite captivated by this city. To her, it seemed the air was thick with the history of England. Things she had learned and read about as a child seemed so real now that she was here. From their window, she could see the Tower of London silhouetted against the starry sky. A delicious shiver ran up her spine as she recalled all the things she had learned about that place. The name itself had always conjured up visions of fair queens marching to their deaths, convicts spending out their miserable lives in their dark stone prison, gruesome murders and beheadings. But to actually see the place where all of it had happened was an entirely different matter.
She lingered by the window a few more moments before deciding she would write her parents. She had promised to write, but, as yet, had not put a single word on a piece of paper. The letter was begun with good intentions. Pat wrote an entire page before she laid her head down on the desk. Her neck was hurting. She just needed to rest it for a minute and then she could finish her letter. But the letter wasn't finished that night. Hilary found her the next morning, fast asleep. The pen was still in her hand and her other arm cradled her head.
"Pat," he whispered, gently shaking her shoulder. "Pat, wake up."
Pat opened her eyes slowly, surprised to see the sunlight that streamed through the windows. She lifted her head in amazement and Hilary started to laugh.
"What's so funny?"
"The side of your face is all red. It must be from where it was pressed up against the desk."
"I haven't slept all night, have I? Not here."
"Yes, I'm afraid you have. What a pair we make. You sleep at a desk and I sleep in my clothes."
"At least you made it to the bed," Pat replied as she stood up and stretched. "When do you have to meet Mr. Bowen?"
"At ten. It's half past eight right now. I better get moving."
"Yes, you better. What shall I do while you're gone?"
"Go sightseeing. Or shopping. Get yourself some new dresses, Pat."
"Hilary, I have dresses."
"Any evening dresses?"
"Not really. It depends on how formal the evening is. If you're talking about a Silverbridge or Bay Shore dance, then, yes, I have evening dresses."
"I'm afraid that might not do. We'll probably have to go to a formal dinner while we're here in London and these British upper-crust types are very choosy. Go get yourself a couple of formal evening gowns."
"Hilary, do we really have the money for all this?"
Hilary smiled at his wife. She had budgeted almost all her life and was having trouble grasping the concept that, while not extremely wealthy, Hilary was well-off. He had saved his money all his life, spending it only on his basic needs and the occasional present to send to Pat or various members of her family. He was a successful architect in Vancouver and already well-respected. Before they were married, he had made sure there was plenty of money for whatever Pat might want.
"Pat, it will be alright. As long as you don't spend thousands of pounds on a dress, we will be fine."
"Thousands of pounds on a dress? Hilary, you must be joking," Pat exclaimed. Hilary shrugged his shoulders.
"Some of the men in my firm are always complaining about how much their wives spend on clothes. You'd be surprised, Pat."
They continued to talk about this and other matters until Hilary was ready to go. Pat had also gotten ready, putting on a golden yellow dress that her mother had made for her. No one would ever be able to see that it hadn't come from one of the fine shops in London. Hilary kissed his wife goodbye, wishing fervently that he didn't have to leave her alone in a strange city, and then left the hotel, but not before giving the doorman a generous tip and strict instructions to help his wife.
FOUR HOURS LATER:
Pat rushed back to the hotel. She was sure Hilary was already back and probably worried about her. It had been fun, this little shopping trip of hers. She now owned two of the most beautiful dresses she had ever owned in her life. They had cost a pretty penny, but the amount of money she had spent was nowhere near the amount Hilary had finally given her for a limit. She was sure he would like the dresses when they were delivered. That is, if he wasn't still upset with her for being gone so long.
When she reached their room, she was surprised to find that Hilary had not returned yet. She wasn't too worried about him. After all, he had been in London before and knew his way around. But as the minutes ticked by, she began to wonder. Two more hours passed before Pat could bear it no longer. She couldn't go look for him. She would probably get lost herself. But she decided that she could go for a walk. Maybe it would calm her nerves. After leaving a short note for Hilary, she grabbed a shawl and headed for the door. But Hilary met her going out.
"Hilary, where have you been? I was starting to get worried."
"I'm sorry, Pat. I would've left word if I could've. My meeting with Mr. Bowen went much longer than I expected."
Pat was about to ask how the meeting went, but the look on Hilary's face spoke volumes.
"He wasn't what you'd hoped?" she inquired.
"Oh, he's a very talented architect. His drawings and sketches are amazing and I saw a couple of the buildings he designed. He's just what the firm needs."
"What's wrong, then, Hilary?"
"Well, when I first met him, I had a really good feeling about him. He's very young, Pat, to be as successful as he is. Two years younger than me, in fact. But, the longer we were together, the more I wished I was somewhere else."
"Why?"
"I just felt like he was looking down his nose at me. As if he thought I wasn't good enough for him. There were a couple of times when he seemed very friendly and more like someone I'd like to get to know better. But those times were few and far between. I understand his family is part of the British aristocracy. Pat, I was just hoping to find a true friend in this new man. I'm sure I'll be recommending him to the firm. He's too talented for my personal feelings about him to get in the way. But, when I saw how young he was, I thought that, finally, I would have a good friend my own age at the firm. I guess that's out of the question now."
"Hilary, I'm so sorry it didn't turn out the way you hoped it would. At least it's over with now. You'll just have to spend the rest of your time with me."
"No, I'm afraid not. Pat, I'm supposed to do more than just have one meeting with this man. If I don't see him for the rest of the week, he'll think me rude and, if my firm decides to hire him, I can't have one of my colleagues thinking that about me. Pat, I'm going to ask you for an unpleasant favor. He's invited us to his home for a formal dinner this evening. I had to accept. Consider it a trial run for what you can expect when we get home. Everyone will want to meet you and, for the first few weeks, you must endure stuffy dances and interminable formal dinners."
"Well," Pat replied, determined to stay cheerful for Hilary's sake, "I guess it's a good thing I got two formal dresses today. You'll need to help me decide which one to wear."
"Pat, you're a brick. Any other woman might have just bit my head off for accepting an invitation to a formal dinner without consulting her first."
"If it's something that needs to be done, Hilary, I'm right behind you. Now, surely we have some time before this dinner starts. How about a nice, leisurely walk?"
Hilary's face brightened at the prospect of a relaxing walk with his wife. The two of them wasted no time in getting ready for their stroll. Pat effectively covered up the fact that her heart was pounding already with nervousness concerning the dinner that night.
A/N: Sorry it's been so long. Things have been awfully crazy around here lately. To make up for it, I'm posting two chapters at a time. Next chapter: What will happen at the fateful dinner?
A/N: I only got a couple of reviews asking for a sequel, but I'm posting one anyway. Why you ask? Just because. Thanks to silverfish, meg, and ruby gillis for their encouragement on Chapter 10 of 'The Wedding'. You people are awesome!
It was late evening by the time they arrived in London. Pat was exhausted and felt grimy from all her travel. Hilary kept glancing at her from time to time, worried. Pat just didn't tire this easily. But she had assured him that traveling just did that to her.
They went straight to the hotel. Hilary had a morning meeting with Mr. Parker Bowen, the man he had come to interview, and Pat insisted that he needed to go straight to sleep. Despite being so tired herself, she found she was too excited to sleep. After her bath, she went back into the room to find that Hilary, who had protested being ordered off to bed like a child, was sound asleep on top of the covers. All he had managed to get off was his shoes. She smiled at him and thought about waking him up so he could get ready for bed properly, but didn't have the heart.
Pat settled herself by the window and looked out at the nighttime view of London. She really was quite captivated by this city. To her, it seemed the air was thick with the history of England. Things she had learned and read about as a child seemed so real now that she was here. From their window, she could see the Tower of London silhouetted against the starry sky. A delicious shiver ran up her spine as she recalled all the things she had learned about that place. The name itself had always conjured up visions of fair queens marching to their deaths, convicts spending out their miserable lives in their dark stone prison, gruesome murders and beheadings. But to actually see the place where all of it had happened was an entirely different matter.
She lingered by the window a few more moments before deciding she would write her parents. She had promised to write, but, as yet, had not put a single word on a piece of paper. The letter was begun with good intentions. Pat wrote an entire page before she laid her head down on the desk. Her neck was hurting. She just needed to rest it for a minute and then she could finish her letter. But the letter wasn't finished that night. Hilary found her the next morning, fast asleep. The pen was still in her hand and her other arm cradled her head.
"Pat," he whispered, gently shaking her shoulder. "Pat, wake up."
Pat opened her eyes slowly, surprised to see the sunlight that streamed through the windows. She lifted her head in amazement and Hilary started to laugh.
"What's so funny?"
"The side of your face is all red. It must be from where it was pressed up against the desk."
"I haven't slept all night, have I? Not here."
"Yes, I'm afraid you have. What a pair we make. You sleep at a desk and I sleep in my clothes."
"At least you made it to the bed," Pat replied as she stood up and stretched. "When do you have to meet Mr. Bowen?"
"At ten. It's half past eight right now. I better get moving."
"Yes, you better. What shall I do while you're gone?"
"Go sightseeing. Or shopping. Get yourself some new dresses, Pat."
"Hilary, I have dresses."
"Any evening dresses?"
"Not really. It depends on how formal the evening is. If you're talking about a Silverbridge or Bay Shore dance, then, yes, I have evening dresses."
"I'm afraid that might not do. We'll probably have to go to a formal dinner while we're here in London and these British upper-crust types are very choosy. Go get yourself a couple of formal evening gowns."
"Hilary, do we really have the money for all this?"
Hilary smiled at his wife. She had budgeted almost all her life and was having trouble grasping the concept that, while not extremely wealthy, Hilary was well-off. He had saved his money all his life, spending it only on his basic needs and the occasional present to send to Pat or various members of her family. He was a successful architect in Vancouver and already well-respected. Before they were married, he had made sure there was plenty of money for whatever Pat might want.
"Pat, it will be alright. As long as you don't spend thousands of pounds on a dress, we will be fine."
"Thousands of pounds on a dress? Hilary, you must be joking," Pat exclaimed. Hilary shrugged his shoulders.
"Some of the men in my firm are always complaining about how much their wives spend on clothes. You'd be surprised, Pat."
They continued to talk about this and other matters until Hilary was ready to go. Pat had also gotten ready, putting on a golden yellow dress that her mother had made for her. No one would ever be able to see that it hadn't come from one of the fine shops in London. Hilary kissed his wife goodbye, wishing fervently that he didn't have to leave her alone in a strange city, and then left the hotel, but not before giving the doorman a generous tip and strict instructions to help his wife.
FOUR HOURS LATER:
Pat rushed back to the hotel. She was sure Hilary was already back and probably worried about her. It had been fun, this little shopping trip of hers. She now owned two of the most beautiful dresses she had ever owned in her life. They had cost a pretty penny, but the amount of money she had spent was nowhere near the amount Hilary had finally given her for a limit. She was sure he would like the dresses when they were delivered. That is, if he wasn't still upset with her for being gone so long.
When she reached their room, she was surprised to find that Hilary had not returned yet. She wasn't too worried about him. After all, he had been in London before and knew his way around. But as the minutes ticked by, she began to wonder. Two more hours passed before Pat could bear it no longer. She couldn't go look for him. She would probably get lost herself. But she decided that she could go for a walk. Maybe it would calm her nerves. After leaving a short note for Hilary, she grabbed a shawl and headed for the door. But Hilary met her going out.
"Hilary, where have you been? I was starting to get worried."
"I'm sorry, Pat. I would've left word if I could've. My meeting with Mr. Bowen went much longer than I expected."
Pat was about to ask how the meeting went, but the look on Hilary's face spoke volumes.
"He wasn't what you'd hoped?" she inquired.
"Oh, he's a very talented architect. His drawings and sketches are amazing and I saw a couple of the buildings he designed. He's just what the firm needs."
"What's wrong, then, Hilary?"
"Well, when I first met him, I had a really good feeling about him. He's very young, Pat, to be as successful as he is. Two years younger than me, in fact. But, the longer we were together, the more I wished I was somewhere else."
"Why?"
"I just felt like he was looking down his nose at me. As if he thought I wasn't good enough for him. There were a couple of times when he seemed very friendly and more like someone I'd like to get to know better. But those times were few and far between. I understand his family is part of the British aristocracy. Pat, I was just hoping to find a true friend in this new man. I'm sure I'll be recommending him to the firm. He's too talented for my personal feelings about him to get in the way. But, when I saw how young he was, I thought that, finally, I would have a good friend my own age at the firm. I guess that's out of the question now."
"Hilary, I'm so sorry it didn't turn out the way you hoped it would. At least it's over with now. You'll just have to spend the rest of your time with me."
"No, I'm afraid not. Pat, I'm supposed to do more than just have one meeting with this man. If I don't see him for the rest of the week, he'll think me rude and, if my firm decides to hire him, I can't have one of my colleagues thinking that about me. Pat, I'm going to ask you for an unpleasant favor. He's invited us to his home for a formal dinner this evening. I had to accept. Consider it a trial run for what you can expect when we get home. Everyone will want to meet you and, for the first few weeks, you must endure stuffy dances and interminable formal dinners."
"Well," Pat replied, determined to stay cheerful for Hilary's sake, "I guess it's a good thing I got two formal dresses today. You'll need to help me decide which one to wear."
"Pat, you're a brick. Any other woman might have just bit my head off for accepting an invitation to a formal dinner without consulting her first."
"If it's something that needs to be done, Hilary, I'm right behind you. Now, surely we have some time before this dinner starts. How about a nice, leisurely walk?"
Hilary's face brightened at the prospect of a relaxing walk with his wife. The two of them wasted no time in getting ready for their stroll. Pat effectively covered up the fact that her heart was pounding already with nervousness concerning the dinner that night.
A/N: Sorry it's been so long. Things have been awfully crazy around here lately. To make up for it, I'm posting two chapters at a time. Next chapter: What will happen at the fateful dinner?