PRIMORDIUM NULLA RETRORSUM
Chapter 7
AUTHOR: TowandaBR, Thisbee, Lady Cris Krux
Translation, Lady Cris Krux
DISCLAIMER: All of the characters of the series "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World" are property of John Landis, Telescene, Coote/Hayes, DirecTV, New Line Television, Space, Action Adventure Network, Goodman/Rosen Productions, and Richmel Productions.
SPOILERS: After HEART OF THE STORM
To all people who keep TLW alive by any means.
Thank you very, very, very much: Roxana, Cris, Santa Crux, Katybelle, Beckers.
Also in Portuguese: "PRIMORDIUM NULLA RETRORSUM"
Roxton was almost trampled by a car when he quickly crossed the busy street. He ran to the sidewalk, trying to reach the only woman who never left his dreams.
There she was: her majestic walking and the dark hair cascading along her shoulders and her back.
He slightly held her right arm, murmuring:
"Marguerite!"
When she turned to face him, the hunter could finally face the brown eyes. She was certainly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but she was not his Marguerite.
"I'm sorry." - He said, bewildered - "I thought you were somebody else."
At first, she sketched an irritated reaction; however, when noticing the deception and sadness in the man's face, she just shook her head lightly in sign of acceptance of his excuses and continued her way.
After some seconds, he tried to recompose himself. He raised his head, puffed up the chest and arranged the suit jacket, made in a herringbone fabric especially for him in the best tailor of Avebury, as well as the white shirts and the pure silk tie bounded by a golden necktie clip matching the cuff links. The black shoes he was using were also hand-made.
Liking it or not he was a lord, and his ghosts should be hidden under that protection. Most of the time he preferred that things went like this, mainly for avoiding inconvenient questions about subjects he didn't intend to share.
"Roxton! John Roxton!" - he heard somebody shout. He turned and could not resist smiling.
"Edward Malone." - They hugged each other long and warmly. Roxton withdrew his friend a little, holding him by the shoulders.
"Let me look at you." - He said, observing the journalist who wore a pair of brown flannel trousers, white shirt, tie and sweater bought from some hawker, but very clean and neatly ironed. He used brown leather shoes faultlessly shone. His hair was short and not a single stubble could be seeing in his shaved face. – "You look thinner, kid."
"I'm very well, Roxton. What have you been doing?"
"Me? I have been doing everything as usual: taking care of the family business, attending the regular commitments, hunting a little, and having fun whenever I can. And what about you?" - before the young man could speak something, he was interrupted - "Don't answer me now. Are you busy?"
"Actually, I was going back home."
Roxton smiled mischievously.
"Is there somebody waiting for you?"
Ned laughed.
"No."
"Have you already have lunch?"
Malone showed the paper bag and the small glass bottle containing some juice.
"I'll eat in the train."
John took the things from his friend's hands.
"Today you are my guest, Malone."
Roxton chose an old, but small pub. He asked for a table away from the noise, where they could talk at ease.
They were served with a succulent roast beef and potatoes, and drank the traditional English ale beer.
They ate with pleasure, sharing between them things in a way they didn't do since a long time, enjoying each other's company, and talking banalities.
Influenced by some extra drinks, Roxton told Malone a little bit more about his life. His mother's death some weeks before and the promise that he had made by her bed-side about finding a woman to marry, and how he was keeping the family business (a family now concentrated in himself) always more profitable, as well as about the social obligations.
While he spoke, Ned could notice the anguish and the hunter's loneliness, as it seemed that he for a long time missed someone with whom he could really talk.
Roxton was always friendly and was always ready to help anyone who needed him, especially his friends, but he was also proud and rarely showed or shared his own feelings.
Malone admired that man who he thought to know so well during the three years they have shared the same shelter, and was caught by surprise noticing the vulnerability in his friend. He felt happy and honored to be the person in whom John had trusted to expose himself and to open his heart.
"What about you, Malone? What have you been doing?"
Ned shrugged, smiling.
"Something here, something there. Nothing important."
"And your book?"
"I am rewriting the journals. Actually, they're almost ready. I'll try to find someone interested in publishing them."
"And Gladys? Her father wasn't your editor?" – Roxton was curious.
"Gladys is past now. And so is the editor."
"Let me see if I understood. You finished your relationship with Gladys, lost the editor and have been living on sporadic jobs."
"That's it."
"And, without insult, Malone, considering your appearance, things don't seem to be going very well."
The young man smiled broadly.
"I have enough to live modestly. And sometimes I even save some money."
"But of course you have plans to progress in your professional life, don't you?"
"Actually, I don't."
Now John was caught by surprise.
"What do you mean? You dreamed about it for three years: coming back to London, publishing your book, being a famous journalist."
Malone faced him very seriously. Roxton had never seen an expression so sure and at the same time so serene.
"I'm going back to the lost world, Roxton."
"What?"
"I felt a little off purpose when I arrived… It was as if I had been thrown in the waters of the sea, and was leaving the currents take me. One day I finally found out that I needed to decide what to do… Continuing as I was or sinking were my first two options. I decided to swim, Roxton. I don't know if I'm going to reach my goal, but when I have enough money for the ticket I will go back. This hope is making me happy."
Malone noticed the friend's thoughtful glance.
"Come with me, Roxton."
"Are you crazy! I have family businesses."
"It's just you now."
The hunter hesitated.
"I made a promise to my mother."
"It wasn't a promise and you know that. It was your way to comfort her while she was dying."
Even speaking quietly, they both began to discuss with harshness, facing each other.
"I have nothing there."
"You don't have anything else here."
"Pay attention, Malone." - Roxton was even more irritated - "Everything I've always wanted, I lost in that place."
"You're wrong. It was there where you found everything you've never imagined to have."
"Someone is waiting for you."
"I only hope for that. But even if I was sure she didn't want me, I still would return." - Ned paused while he wrote something in a piece of paper that he put in the table right in front of his friend. Then he said.
"At least London served one purpose. It showed me that the strong man for whom Marguerite fell in love died with her." – Malone got up to leave - "Thank you for the lunch, Roxton."
John stayed seated, motionless, without reaction. His mind was empty. He took the note in front of him, unfolded it and read what was written, just to immediately crush it again, throwing it over the table.
"You're an idiot, Malone."
Then, in only one sip, he drank the rest of the beer, paid the bill and left.
He came back some seconds later to take the wrinkled paper and put it in his pocket.
Ned checked the time and still sleepy he got up. He had been awake until dawn, knowing that he could sleep until late and now...
"I'm coming! I'm coming!" - He opened the door, surprised when seeing the visitor entering his room without ceremony.
"If it was to live in a den, you could at least have chosen a room in a lower floor."
"It's more expensive. And who let you come up?"
"I bribed the janitor. You're almost naked, Malone."
"It's 6AM, Roxton." – The journalist complained, stopped in the middle of the room, only in his underwear, rubbing his eyes. In answer, the hunter threw his the clothes that were over the chair.
"It's late. Get dressed."
"Why?"
"Because we need to continue the conversation we had two weeks ago."
"Hadn't we already finished it?"
"You are going to help me to resolve some things."
"Me? Help with what?"
"Sell properties, get rid of some assets, publish a book, buy first class tickets to South America."
"Roxton, I..."
"Shut up and get dressed now, Malone."
"Alright." – The journalist agreed, smiling, already closing the flies of his trousers, while the hunter thought.
"But first we have a very important thing to do."
"What?"
"Visit a friend... "
TO BE CONTINUED...
Please R&R