Chapter Thirteen: Shoot the Messenger
Theresa spent days contemplating her next course of action: should she say something to Charlotte about Harold, should she keep her mouth shut? Would Charlotte be upset? Did she already know? Harold had said that she was his best friend; it was completely understandable that she might be aware. After all look at Oscar Wilde. Her brows knit together as she store into her lap; her hands clasped together.
"Darling; is everything alright?" Charlotte clapped a hand on Theresa shoulder. The two young women sat in the Lord General's office for tea. Theresa had no idea where he had run off to. To think of it she hadn't seen the man in days.
"Oh nothing; just a lot on my mind." She mumbled, delicately swirling the silver spoon in the china tea cup she held in her hand. A gentle knock on the closed door interrupted to the matter much to Theresa's relief. Charlotte Cornwallis was like a dog with a bone; she wouldn't have dropped the subject right there, but with a sigh Theresa guessed this would not be last they talked of it.
"Come in." Charlotte called. Her delicate feature knit together in confusion, as she ever so gently and elegantly sipped her tea. Theresa breath hitched; the tall handsome frame of Harold Willaby strode in. Handsome and confidant.
"Hello darling;" he lovingly kissed Charlotte on her pale cheek. "Theresa; how do you fair?" he smiled revealing those perfect white teeth. She swallowed hard; bringing her eyes up to meet his.
"I've been better." She choked a bit.
"Oh shame; I'm terribly sorry to hear that." He smiled warmly; Theresa frowned feeling horribly guilty. Her gaze fell back into the light amber colored liquid in her teacup.
"Darling; the seamstress needs you company..." Harold smiled. "There's a dilemma; about French lace." He chuckled.
"Oh dear!" Charlotte gasped; her small white gloved hand covered her small pouty lips. "Theresa…I'm terribly…"
"It's fine." Theresa waved her hand dismissively. "Gotta do what you gotta do, that dress needs to be perfect." She smiled falsely, the pit in her stomach getting deeper.
"Exactly my sentiments!" Harold chuckled. "Don't worry darling; I will keep Theresa company. I was looking forward to a cup of tea."
They sat in silence; but the tension was deafening. Each sitting, sipping their tea. Theresa looked up her blue eyes meeting Harold's' hazel, and she opened her mouth but promptly snapped it shut.
"So how have you been?" Harold seemed to say slowly, cautiously.
"Fine…" she bit her bottom lips, absently chewing at it. "What about you?"
"Wonderful, dear." She snorted. A horrified looked crossed her face as she realized what she had done. Harold raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow fixing the younger woman with a hard look. "Alright; out with it. "He said in a stern voice. Theresa was taken aback his normally carefree playful demeanor replaced with a stern; forceful one.
"What?" She cocked her head to the side, tossing her long ponytail over her shoulder.
"We…have enjoyed each others company. I believed. For the last week you have avoided me; like I was plague stricken… and the looks." He sighed sadly. "I cannot even begin to describe the looks you have been throwing me." He raised the small to teacup to his pert lips; taking an attentive sip before setting it down gingerly. Theresa sighed; looking heavenward; hoping possibly that one of the large wooden beams that held the ceiling would just fall and knock her out. She covered her face with her hands and ran them over her face. "I believed us to be…friends." The dejected sound of his voice made her feel…like absolute crap. Worse even.
"We…' she sighed. Leaning forward; she rested her forearms on her knees. "Shut the door." She commanded. Her blue eyes followed the young man; as he stood and crossed the room shutting the door with a snap. She felt like she was going to be sick; she was so nervous. Her throat was dry and raw and when she opened her mouth nothing came out. Clearing her throat loudly she watched Harold take his eat in the large arm chair across from her.
"We are….but Charlotte is...Charlotte means a lot to me, she has taken me in...given me a life that. I don't think I would have ever imagined….She is my best friend my confidant….how do I keep something like this from her, and not feel like an absolute douche?" Theresa groaned. "I need booze." She mumbled.
"What are you talking about?" Harold cocked an eyebrow again.
"You know what I'm talkin' about." She hissed. Standing; she strode over to the small table against the wall. Eyeing the the crystal carafe and glasses that the Lord General had decorated the table with. A small hand lifted the large crystal carafe pouring the dark amber alcohol in to a small glass that she filled to the brim.
"I assure you I do not." Harold said testily. Never turning around; she fixed her eyes on the pale blue colored wall in front of her. Taking a deep breath; she whispered.
"You really should be more discreet…the thought of you not loving her…I think; it would kill her."
"Discreet?"
"Yeah discreet…I saw you; the other day. With you're…gentleman friend." Harold chuckled.
"I have many friends that are gentleman. I am a man! I have male friends."
"Do you kiss all of 'em?" Theresa rounded on him angrily. Downing the alcohol in one quick swallow, a hiss erupted from her as it burned its' way down her throat. Harold's eye shot open wide, and he opened his mouth promptly closing it, before opening it again. He looked like a fish.
"Look, I don't have a problem with that….In fact I love the gays! My brother is gay!" she started sadly, taking her seat, cradling her forehead in her hand. "But when you lead her on…it's just not right." Harold glowered at her his eyes fiery.
"What makes you think she does not know?" he hissed.
"She loves you."
"I know this…." He stood glowering down at the young woman across from him. "Charlotte knows…has for a long time, and I fail to see where any of this is your bloody business!" He yelled angrily; before turning on his heel and stalking from the room, slamming the door soundly behind him.
A/N: Please Review!