A/N: Okay, it doesn't seem like I'll have access to the internet for a
while still. So I'll keep writing in the hopes that, someday, I'll find a
computer where I can post these chapters. Who knows? Maybe I'll have a
'War and Peace' type novel written by then.
Annie- Thanks for the review. I'm honored that someone who doesn't review much would review one of my stories. I really appreciate it.
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Pat eyed her reflection in the mirror critically. She didn't really care to have her hair all swept up off her shoulders, but this was a formal party. Stepping back and twirling, Pat felt shamelessly vain. But, it couldn't be denied that this dress suited her perfectly. She was glad she'd be wearing it to this event. It was the first time she'd had it on since she had tried it on for Hilary the day she got it in London.
Hilary came in at that moment and marveled again at the fact that he was married to this woman. They had only been home for four days. In that amount of time, Pat had somehow managed to get everything organized the way she wanted it. Hilary saw hints of Silver Bush here and there in his home now, but he loved it. Silver Bush, in a way, had been his home as well.
Now, he watched Pat with a bit of amusement. What would Judy think of all this primping?
"Don't tell me you've gotten materialistic on me, Pat," he said teasingly. The sound of his voice startled Pat and she jumped.
"Hilary, I wish you wouldn't do that. It's a nasty habit you've picked up. And of course I haven't gotten materialistic. I just wish I didn't have to wear my hair like this. But I want to make a good impression."
Hilary came up behind her and put his arms around her waist.
"Oh, I don't know, Pat. Having your hair up does offer some advantages."
"Such as?" Pat inquired, looking at her husband's reflection. He really did look handsome tonight.
In response, Hilary kissed his wife on her neck. She shivered a little.
"Oh, I see," were her next words. Then, "Mr. Gordon, I'm afraid I can't allow this. We have a dance to get to."
"Can't we skip the dance?" pleaded Hilary. Pat laughed at the look on his face.
"I'm afraid not. Especially since it's being hosted by the senior partner in your firm. Oh, what is his wife's name again?"
Hilary smiled at the slight note of panic in Pat's voice. She had been trying to memorize the names of all his coworkers and their families in preparation for this formal dance.
"Her name is Eliza. But, if I know her, you'll never be on a first name basis. Just call her Mrs. Powers."
"Of course I will. Actually, I rather prefer Mrs. Powers over Eliza. I never have cared for that name."
"Enough of names. I have a gift for you."
Hilary pulled a box out of his pocket and opened it. He was rewarded with a small gasp from Pat.
"Hilary, it's beautiful! When did you get it?"
Hilary took the necklace out of the box and began to fasten it around Pat's neck.
"I got it in Ireland. It was so beautiful and I thought it would go well with this dress. I wanted you to have something for the old cats to gossip about."
The necklace in question was made of silver. The design was, Hilary explained, a Celtic knot. And, in the spots where the silver opened up, there were delicate rubies which sparkled brightly against Pat's skin.
"I almost got the one with emeralds," he said. "But you don't have a green dress. And I did want you to have a necklace for this dress. Katie and Taryn helped me pick it out."
"I love it," proclaimed Pat, her eyes sparkling. "But you really must stop giving me all these things, Hilary. We'll be in the poorhouse before you know it."
Her husband merely smiled indulgingly as he escorted her down the stairs and out the door.
TWO HOURS LATER
Patricia Gordon was bored. Decidedly bored. The dancing was wonderful, when Hilary could whisk her away long enough to dance. Everyone wanted to meet Hilary Gordon's wife and, being the guest of honor, Pat felt obliged to chat with anyone who wanted to do so. And, already, she had begun to separate those who were genuinely pleased to meet her from those who were meeting her and hoping for a bit of juicy gossip.
She had managed to overhear some remarks about Laura Patterson that had made her turn red with anger. She wasn't angry with Hilary or Laura, though. Her anger was solely directed at the remarks themselves and the people making them. Laura had quickly become someone to be defended in Pat's world. She mothered Pat just as she mothered Hilary. Pat had decided early on that she liked Laura very much. For tonight, she held her tongue. She didn't want to be rude when first meeting her husband's coworkers. In the future, however, she was determined to make it clear that any remarks about her husband and Laura Patterson were not going to be tolerated.
At the moment, she was half-heartedly listening to a silly woman go on and on about the trials and tribulations her children were putting her though. Pat reflected that the only thing sillier than this woman's behavior was her name. She had introduced herself as Genevieve Ambrose. To be sure, both names were rather pretty in their own right, but if one put them together it sounded like the name of a heroine in some tragic novel. Not only that, but the woman certainly didn't look like a 'Genevieve Ambrose' should. She was short and a bit dumpy with pale blonde hair and round, staring blue eyes. Pat was passing the time thinking up a name that suited her better when Hilary came by and rescued her.
Finding herself safe on the dance floor, Pat heaved a sigh of relief, prompting Hilary to laugh. She glared at him, but it did not have the desired effect.
"I see you met our resident drama queen," Hilary said.
"Mrs. Ambrose? What is her story, Hilary? Despite all the gossiping and exaggerating she did, I have the feeling that there was more to her than that."
"Well, once upon a time, there supposedly was. From what I understand, little Mrs. Ambrose was the belle of Montreal. She married James Ambrose when she was seventeen, came here to Vancouver, had her children and proceeded to turn into a pale imitation of our own Mrs. Binnie."
"Mr. Ambrose isn't cruel, is he?" inquired Pat, ignoring the reference to May's mother. She glanced at the man in question with slight disbelief. Mr. Ambrose had been very kind when meeting her and he didn't look like a cruel man. He looked rather jolly, actually, with silvery hair and warm brown eyes.
"Mr. Ambrose? Cruel? Oh, no, no, no. James Ambrose is one of the nicest men I've ever known. It just seems that he doesn't really know what his wife wants half the time. He's well meaning, but misguided."
Pat was reassured to know that her first impression of Mr. Ambrose as kind had been correct. He was really the only man she'd met so far that didn't intimidate her. Mr. Powers, their host for the evening, was very intimidating. He stood a good three inches taller than Hilary and had a more powerful build. His hair was black with silver streaks and he had, Pat thought, rather cold and calculating eyes. His wife had proven to be no different. Despite her warm welcome, Pat found her a bit haughty and condescending. She felt as if she didn't really belong in this world and she knew for a fact that Hilary didn't. But, if they didn't belong here then why were they here?
"We're here because you insisted on coming," Hilary's voice said. It snapped Pat out of her pondering mode. Had she asked that question out loud?
"I'm sorry, Hilary. I must have been thinking out loud."
"You're not having a good time, Pat. It's okay to tell me that. I don't like this type of thing either. Everyone pretending to be something they're not. It irritates me. Of course, in a couple of months, things like this will be much better."
"Why?"
"Because Katie and Parker will be here with us, of course. Then we can all laugh about it afterwards."
Pat's eyes danced at the prospect of discussing one of these 'formal parties' with Katie after the fact. But even that thought couldn't cheer her for long. She was dreadfully tired. Why was she so tired lately? Maybe it was just magnified by the fact that she really no longer cared to be here. But she smiled for all she was worth as Hilary whirled her around and no one was any the wiser.
When the music ended, Mr. Powers came up to Hilary and Pat. His wife was by his side, smiling sweetly. Rather too sweetly, Pat thought.
"Gordon, you have a fine wife," said Mr. Powers, drawing Hilary aside while his wife asked Pat about her family.
"Thank you, sir," Hilary replied. "And thank you again for hosting this party. You really didn't have to."
"Nonsense, nonsense! Of course I did. You're one of my top architects and you're also like a son to me. It does me good to see you finally settled down."
Hilary merely nodded in reply. Like a son? This was new.
"Now, Gordon, about this Bowen chap."
"Yes, sir? What do you need to know?"
"Oh, not a thing, not a thing. You've told me everything I need to know about him. Well, almost everything."
Mr. Powers' voice became substantially lower and he drew Hilary further away from Pat, who was looking a little more lost with each passing minute. When he and Hilary were basically alone, Mr. Powers continued.
"You didn't tell me everything about his family, though, Gordon."
Hilary was perplexed. He thought he had filled Mr. Powers and the other partners in on everything about the Bowens.
"But, sir, I told you he was married and had four children. I even gave you their names and ages."
"Yes, you did. You certainly did. But, Gordon, you never once mentioned that thing about his wife."
"I'm afraid I don't understand, sir."
"Well, Gordon, it's like this. You didn't tell us his wife came from a somewhat lower class than he. Not only that, but she's Irish as well. These are things we need to know."
"With all due respect, sir, I fail to see what that has to do with anything."
Mr. Powers elaborated, ignoring the sparks that were beginning to show in Hilary's eyes.
"Gordon, you're a good man and an excellent judge of character. In this regard, though, you've made a small mistake. Powers, Henderson, and Ambrose Architecture simply can't have a partner with a wife who is of somewhat less than desirable social status. I'm sure she's a very nice woman, but our reputation is on the line. All the partners are agreed on this, Gordon. We just can't hire Parker Bowen. You understand."
Never in his life had Hilary Gordon been so angry. This was unjust and utterly unfair. And Parker was already on his way over to Canada by now.
"No, I'm afraid I don't understand, Mr. Powers," he replied through clenched teeth. "Parker Bowen is one of the finest architects I've ever known. One of the finest men, for that matter. And his wife is no different."
"Come, come, Gordon, be reasonable."
"I'm being unreasonable? How am I unreasonable? Because I don't judge people by how much money they have or what country they're from? If you'll recall, Mr. Powers, I myself am from a 'somewhat less than desirable' background. At least, according to your standards. Why did you hire me?"
"That was different. You're Canadian. Born and bred on Prince Edward Island. And we found nothing of concern in your background. Or your wife's for that matter."
Hilary was too angry to speak. He simply glared at Mr. Powers who, despite the fact that he was bigger and taller than Hilary, flinched at the intensity in the young man's eyes. Without a word, Hilary began walking back to Pat. He took her by the hand and whispered through clenched teeth.
"Come on, Pat. We're leaving this place."
Pat looked up in surprise, but, after seeing Hilary's face, didn't utter a word of protest. She followed him to the front door, where Mr. Powers caught up with them. He had had time to recover from Hilary's glare and was now angry himself.
"If you walk out that door, Gordon, don't bother to show up in the office on Monday."
Hilary regarded Mr. Powers with a look that could only be described as disgust, as if Richard Powers were the lowest form of life on Earth. Pat was shocked at both Mr. Powers' statement and Hilary's behavior. In all the years they had known each other, she had never seen Hilary be contemptuous of someone.
"You couldn't drag me back, Powers. I'll have my secretary gather up my things."
And they were gone. Pat found herself standing outside, bewildered. She didn't speak. She was rather afraid to. Unsure of what she should do, she merely followed him to the car. When she looked back, she saw Mr. Ambrose standing on the steps of the Powers home, watching them drive off.
A/N: Okay, end of that chapter. Aren't I mean? Well, fear not. I'm sure the next chapter will be up soon. So, how is everyone? Doing good, I hope. Okay, now I'm babbling. Really, I'm writing this at work (it's a bit slow here today) and I don't have anyone to talk to. So, I'll just talk to you. Ruby Gillis - Eagerly awaiting your next installment of your Marigold story. You're getting to be as bad as me about updating. ( Seriously, though, I hope everyone enjoyed these chapters. Read and review if you want more.
"Trusty, dusky, vivid, true, With eyes of gold and bramble dew." - From 'Pat of Silver Bush'
Annie- Thanks for the review. I'm honored that someone who doesn't review much would review one of my stories. I really appreciate it.
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Pat eyed her reflection in the mirror critically. She didn't really care to have her hair all swept up off her shoulders, but this was a formal party. Stepping back and twirling, Pat felt shamelessly vain. But, it couldn't be denied that this dress suited her perfectly. She was glad she'd be wearing it to this event. It was the first time she'd had it on since she had tried it on for Hilary the day she got it in London.
Hilary came in at that moment and marveled again at the fact that he was married to this woman. They had only been home for four days. In that amount of time, Pat had somehow managed to get everything organized the way she wanted it. Hilary saw hints of Silver Bush here and there in his home now, but he loved it. Silver Bush, in a way, had been his home as well.
Now, he watched Pat with a bit of amusement. What would Judy think of all this primping?
"Don't tell me you've gotten materialistic on me, Pat," he said teasingly. The sound of his voice startled Pat and she jumped.
"Hilary, I wish you wouldn't do that. It's a nasty habit you've picked up. And of course I haven't gotten materialistic. I just wish I didn't have to wear my hair like this. But I want to make a good impression."
Hilary came up behind her and put his arms around her waist.
"Oh, I don't know, Pat. Having your hair up does offer some advantages."
"Such as?" Pat inquired, looking at her husband's reflection. He really did look handsome tonight.
In response, Hilary kissed his wife on her neck. She shivered a little.
"Oh, I see," were her next words. Then, "Mr. Gordon, I'm afraid I can't allow this. We have a dance to get to."
"Can't we skip the dance?" pleaded Hilary. Pat laughed at the look on his face.
"I'm afraid not. Especially since it's being hosted by the senior partner in your firm. Oh, what is his wife's name again?"
Hilary smiled at the slight note of panic in Pat's voice. She had been trying to memorize the names of all his coworkers and their families in preparation for this formal dance.
"Her name is Eliza. But, if I know her, you'll never be on a first name basis. Just call her Mrs. Powers."
"Of course I will. Actually, I rather prefer Mrs. Powers over Eliza. I never have cared for that name."
"Enough of names. I have a gift for you."
Hilary pulled a box out of his pocket and opened it. He was rewarded with a small gasp from Pat.
"Hilary, it's beautiful! When did you get it?"
Hilary took the necklace out of the box and began to fasten it around Pat's neck.
"I got it in Ireland. It was so beautiful and I thought it would go well with this dress. I wanted you to have something for the old cats to gossip about."
The necklace in question was made of silver. The design was, Hilary explained, a Celtic knot. And, in the spots where the silver opened up, there were delicate rubies which sparkled brightly against Pat's skin.
"I almost got the one with emeralds," he said. "But you don't have a green dress. And I did want you to have a necklace for this dress. Katie and Taryn helped me pick it out."
"I love it," proclaimed Pat, her eyes sparkling. "But you really must stop giving me all these things, Hilary. We'll be in the poorhouse before you know it."
Her husband merely smiled indulgingly as he escorted her down the stairs and out the door.
TWO HOURS LATER
Patricia Gordon was bored. Decidedly bored. The dancing was wonderful, when Hilary could whisk her away long enough to dance. Everyone wanted to meet Hilary Gordon's wife and, being the guest of honor, Pat felt obliged to chat with anyone who wanted to do so. And, already, she had begun to separate those who were genuinely pleased to meet her from those who were meeting her and hoping for a bit of juicy gossip.
She had managed to overhear some remarks about Laura Patterson that had made her turn red with anger. She wasn't angry with Hilary or Laura, though. Her anger was solely directed at the remarks themselves and the people making them. Laura had quickly become someone to be defended in Pat's world. She mothered Pat just as she mothered Hilary. Pat had decided early on that she liked Laura very much. For tonight, she held her tongue. She didn't want to be rude when first meeting her husband's coworkers. In the future, however, she was determined to make it clear that any remarks about her husband and Laura Patterson were not going to be tolerated.
At the moment, she was half-heartedly listening to a silly woman go on and on about the trials and tribulations her children were putting her though. Pat reflected that the only thing sillier than this woman's behavior was her name. She had introduced herself as Genevieve Ambrose. To be sure, both names were rather pretty in their own right, but if one put them together it sounded like the name of a heroine in some tragic novel. Not only that, but the woman certainly didn't look like a 'Genevieve Ambrose' should. She was short and a bit dumpy with pale blonde hair and round, staring blue eyes. Pat was passing the time thinking up a name that suited her better when Hilary came by and rescued her.
Finding herself safe on the dance floor, Pat heaved a sigh of relief, prompting Hilary to laugh. She glared at him, but it did not have the desired effect.
"I see you met our resident drama queen," Hilary said.
"Mrs. Ambrose? What is her story, Hilary? Despite all the gossiping and exaggerating she did, I have the feeling that there was more to her than that."
"Well, once upon a time, there supposedly was. From what I understand, little Mrs. Ambrose was the belle of Montreal. She married James Ambrose when she was seventeen, came here to Vancouver, had her children and proceeded to turn into a pale imitation of our own Mrs. Binnie."
"Mr. Ambrose isn't cruel, is he?" inquired Pat, ignoring the reference to May's mother. She glanced at the man in question with slight disbelief. Mr. Ambrose had been very kind when meeting her and he didn't look like a cruel man. He looked rather jolly, actually, with silvery hair and warm brown eyes.
"Mr. Ambrose? Cruel? Oh, no, no, no. James Ambrose is one of the nicest men I've ever known. It just seems that he doesn't really know what his wife wants half the time. He's well meaning, but misguided."
Pat was reassured to know that her first impression of Mr. Ambrose as kind had been correct. He was really the only man she'd met so far that didn't intimidate her. Mr. Powers, their host for the evening, was very intimidating. He stood a good three inches taller than Hilary and had a more powerful build. His hair was black with silver streaks and he had, Pat thought, rather cold and calculating eyes. His wife had proven to be no different. Despite her warm welcome, Pat found her a bit haughty and condescending. She felt as if she didn't really belong in this world and she knew for a fact that Hilary didn't. But, if they didn't belong here then why were they here?
"We're here because you insisted on coming," Hilary's voice said. It snapped Pat out of her pondering mode. Had she asked that question out loud?
"I'm sorry, Hilary. I must have been thinking out loud."
"You're not having a good time, Pat. It's okay to tell me that. I don't like this type of thing either. Everyone pretending to be something they're not. It irritates me. Of course, in a couple of months, things like this will be much better."
"Why?"
"Because Katie and Parker will be here with us, of course. Then we can all laugh about it afterwards."
Pat's eyes danced at the prospect of discussing one of these 'formal parties' with Katie after the fact. But even that thought couldn't cheer her for long. She was dreadfully tired. Why was she so tired lately? Maybe it was just magnified by the fact that she really no longer cared to be here. But she smiled for all she was worth as Hilary whirled her around and no one was any the wiser.
When the music ended, Mr. Powers came up to Hilary and Pat. His wife was by his side, smiling sweetly. Rather too sweetly, Pat thought.
"Gordon, you have a fine wife," said Mr. Powers, drawing Hilary aside while his wife asked Pat about her family.
"Thank you, sir," Hilary replied. "And thank you again for hosting this party. You really didn't have to."
"Nonsense, nonsense! Of course I did. You're one of my top architects and you're also like a son to me. It does me good to see you finally settled down."
Hilary merely nodded in reply. Like a son? This was new.
"Now, Gordon, about this Bowen chap."
"Yes, sir? What do you need to know?"
"Oh, not a thing, not a thing. You've told me everything I need to know about him. Well, almost everything."
Mr. Powers' voice became substantially lower and he drew Hilary further away from Pat, who was looking a little more lost with each passing minute. When he and Hilary were basically alone, Mr. Powers continued.
"You didn't tell me everything about his family, though, Gordon."
Hilary was perplexed. He thought he had filled Mr. Powers and the other partners in on everything about the Bowens.
"But, sir, I told you he was married and had four children. I even gave you their names and ages."
"Yes, you did. You certainly did. But, Gordon, you never once mentioned that thing about his wife."
"I'm afraid I don't understand, sir."
"Well, Gordon, it's like this. You didn't tell us his wife came from a somewhat lower class than he. Not only that, but she's Irish as well. These are things we need to know."
"With all due respect, sir, I fail to see what that has to do with anything."
Mr. Powers elaborated, ignoring the sparks that were beginning to show in Hilary's eyes.
"Gordon, you're a good man and an excellent judge of character. In this regard, though, you've made a small mistake. Powers, Henderson, and Ambrose Architecture simply can't have a partner with a wife who is of somewhat less than desirable social status. I'm sure she's a very nice woman, but our reputation is on the line. All the partners are agreed on this, Gordon. We just can't hire Parker Bowen. You understand."
Never in his life had Hilary Gordon been so angry. This was unjust and utterly unfair. And Parker was already on his way over to Canada by now.
"No, I'm afraid I don't understand, Mr. Powers," he replied through clenched teeth. "Parker Bowen is one of the finest architects I've ever known. One of the finest men, for that matter. And his wife is no different."
"Come, come, Gordon, be reasonable."
"I'm being unreasonable? How am I unreasonable? Because I don't judge people by how much money they have or what country they're from? If you'll recall, Mr. Powers, I myself am from a 'somewhat less than desirable' background. At least, according to your standards. Why did you hire me?"
"That was different. You're Canadian. Born and bred on Prince Edward Island. And we found nothing of concern in your background. Or your wife's for that matter."
Hilary was too angry to speak. He simply glared at Mr. Powers who, despite the fact that he was bigger and taller than Hilary, flinched at the intensity in the young man's eyes. Without a word, Hilary began walking back to Pat. He took her by the hand and whispered through clenched teeth.
"Come on, Pat. We're leaving this place."
Pat looked up in surprise, but, after seeing Hilary's face, didn't utter a word of protest. She followed him to the front door, where Mr. Powers caught up with them. He had had time to recover from Hilary's glare and was now angry himself.
"If you walk out that door, Gordon, don't bother to show up in the office on Monday."
Hilary regarded Mr. Powers with a look that could only be described as disgust, as if Richard Powers were the lowest form of life on Earth. Pat was shocked at both Mr. Powers' statement and Hilary's behavior. In all the years they had known each other, she had never seen Hilary be contemptuous of someone.
"You couldn't drag me back, Powers. I'll have my secretary gather up my things."
And they were gone. Pat found herself standing outside, bewildered. She didn't speak. She was rather afraid to. Unsure of what she should do, she merely followed him to the car. When she looked back, she saw Mr. Ambrose standing on the steps of the Powers home, watching them drive off.
A/N: Okay, end of that chapter. Aren't I mean? Well, fear not. I'm sure the next chapter will be up soon. So, how is everyone? Doing good, I hope. Okay, now I'm babbling. Really, I'm writing this at work (it's a bit slow here today) and I don't have anyone to talk to. So, I'll just talk to you. Ruby Gillis - Eagerly awaiting your next installment of your Marigold story. You're getting to be as bad as me about updating. ( Seriously, though, I hope everyone enjoyed these chapters. Read and review if you want more.
"Trusty, dusky, vivid, true, With eyes of gold and bramble dew." - From 'Pat of Silver Bush'