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my turn to laugh. From just behind my mother, I glanced at Lawrence with a look of mischief in his eye. Why did out parents have to act like such idiots?! Lawrence briefly smiled at me, then focused his attention on my mother. It was barely a reply, but he had a more pressing engagement to fulfil, speaking to my mother, but I knew he had seen me.
Lawrence bowed low. “I am Lawrence Irving, Ma’am,” he said, an enchanting smile on his face. “A pleasure to meet you.” He reached forward, and took mother’s hand, gently kissing it. Mother positively blushed with pleasure. I stored this rather entertaining image in the back of my mind till the next time I needed mental stimulation.
Next, Lawrence turned to me, and bowed even lower.
“And, Miss Granger, a pleasure to meet you,” he said, kissing my hand. His lips remained on my skin for a while longer than they should, I suspected, and I prayed no one else had noticed.
It seemed they hadn’t. Lawrence straightened, and smiled at me.
“Oh... Yes... As it is to meet you, Mr Irving,” I stammered in reply.
“Oh, please call me Lawrence,” My charming companion smiled in reply, utterly confident, and enchanting. And, I couldn’t stop myself, I was enchanted.
“If we are on first name terms, then you must call me Victoria,” I replied, smiling what I hoped was prettily. Well, by the look on Lawrence’s face, I’d say it was.
“Well then, Victoria, would you do me the honour of coming for a walk?” he offered me his arm. Suppressing a gasp, I walked over, and linked my arm gingerly around his. Turning to my mother, the look on her face was one of astonishment but seeming approval. Giving her and my companion’s mother a Parthian smile, we left.
“Would you like anything to eat, Victoria?” asked Lawrence. I shook my head.
“No, thank you. I’m not hungry.”
Lawrence nodded, and led me towards a pretty walkway. Away from the hustle and bustle of this wretched party, it was a welcome retreat. Roses hung upon archways along the walk bordering the side of the house, in all array of colours. Very romantic. I shook the thought from my head. Romantic?! Where on earth had that idea come from?! Well, as if I needed to contemplate that.
I turned my head to the left, and allowed my gaze to rest on the charming young man who I was walking alongside. I suppose I did not realize the intensity of the stare, but eventually I became aware of Lawrence staring back at me. After a moment I noticed that we had both stopped walking, and were standing motionless in the middle of the archway. Almost feeling his eyes on my face, I felt the colour rising in my cheeks, and turned away, embarrassed. The moment was lost.
Tugging on Lawrence’s hand, I insisted that we keep on walking. The arches bordered the house, and, after rounding a corner, we came across a little alcove in the bricks, a cosy swing seat nestled into the back wall of the townhouse. Had I not come this way, I would never have noticed it.
Giving a little squeal of joy, I ran towards it. Lawrence laughed, and followed me. Smoothing out my skirts, I sat down, Lawrence following my move.
“Why the inexplicable joy?” he asked with a smile.
“I’ve never sat on one of these before,” I said, somewhat wistfully.
“Surely not?!” You poor deprived child!” cried Lawrence. His voice sounded so sincere that for a moment I thought he really did feel pain on my behalf, but as soon as I caught the twinkle in his eye and the smile on his face I really could not help but smile back.
“Well, our house does not really have a garden such as this, and I have never really been allowed to explore the gardens of others when I have attended parties,” I replied. “I would love one though. It would be the perfect spot to read.”
Lawrence nodded, a look of sincere interest on his face. “You read then?” he said, a smile on his face. Although, as hard as I tried, I couldn’t quite place what the smile meant... I seemed to be a mixture of, perhaps, pride, and maybe... Expectancy?
“Oh, I love to read!” I replied wildly. “Why, I would spend all day reading if I could. Well, that is, when I am not playing my violin.”
Lawrence nodded again. “And what do you read?”
Well, everything I can possibly acquire!” I smiled back. “Dickens, the Bronte sisters, George Elliot... oh, and Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes.”
“Sherlock Holmes, really?” Lawrence replied, “I must say, I do enjoy reading them myself. They can, at times, be quite enlightening.”
“Perfectly elementary!” I exclaimed. We burst into laughter simultaneously at my poor attempt at a joke. Eventually, we managed to calm down.
“You mentioned you play the violin as well?”
“Yes,” I replied. “I am quite obsessed with the instrument.”
“Do you have lessons currently?”
“I do,” I answered, “Though I am quite surprised I am allowed to. I do not think that my mother includes violin playing as one of the traits of a demure young lady.”
“Oh?” Lawrence raised his eyebrows. “Well, I must say, I consider female string players women of great intellectuality.”
“I thank you,” I replied, “But you forget that the young Edwardian lady is not supposed to possess great intellectuality. We are supposed to sit around all day looking demure and pretty.”
“Fair enough,” Lawrence replied. We lapsed into an awkward silence. I racked my brain for something, anything to say.
“Do you play any instruments?” I asked, a vain attempt to break the awkwardness. Lawrence turned.
“As a matter of fact, I do, he said. “The cello.”
“Really?” I said. “How interesting.”
“You know,” Lawrence smiled, “We could play a duet, if you like.”
I smiled back. “Yes, I would love to, thank you.”
For some inexplicable reason, my brain paused, as if I had hit a snag. “We could play a duet.” That meant... That meant he was willing to meet me again! My heart sang. I only realized the look of elation that must have appeared on my face when Lawrence smiled knowingly at me. By the looks of his face, he had read me like an open book. I turned to him quizzically. He nodded.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, I do.”
Amazed that he had understood my thoughts exactly, I just sat there next to him with my mouth hanging open. In the words of my mother, very mature. Lawrence twined a loose curl around his finger, and my heart nearly skipped a beat.
“You, are so, so beautiful,” he murmured.
“No, I’m not,” I murmured back softly.
“But you are!” Lawrence persisted. “Eyes the colour of the august sky, and that hair, the colour of the reddest autumn leaves...”
Now, as someone mentions my hair in a positive way, I know they are lying. That was where I drew the line.
“Now I know you’re making it up,” I replied, turning away. “My hair is disgusting. Spawn of the Devil, that’s me.”
“Victoria!” Lawrence cried. He rested his hand gently on my cheek, and slowly turned my head back around to face him. “You are beautiful, trust me. I would not say it if you weren’t. And Spawn of the Devil?! Whoever told you that?!”
Do you want a list, I thought to myself.
“Now, listen,” continued Lawrence. “You are beautiful, and it would upset me terribly if you did not know that rather obvious fact. Which is why I am informing you now. Please, Victoria, tell me you will believe me.
For a moment, I could not speak; I was so full of elation. Finally recovering sense, I nodded thickly.
Lawrence sighed contently, and pulled me closer to him. His hand caught the pins of my hair as he did so; resulting in my hair cascading down over my shoulder. I sighed with relief as the uncomfortable; piercing pins released their constricting grip on my scalp. Lawrence buried his face in my hair. I could only just make out what he was murmuring quietly.
“So beautiful.... So, so beautiful...”
I didn’t know whether it was the heat of the day, the intoxicating scent of the roses, the amazing aura of his wonderful man, or a combination of all three, but suddenly, something snapped inside me, and all the lessons of decorum, all the attempts at being a virtuous young lady that I had tried and failed to perfect; all of them, they just seemed to melt away, like a heavy burden being lifted away from my heart. The ominous presence of my mother now seemed like a distant raincloud too far away to ruin the beautiful blue sky, instead of a violent storm. I didn’t care anymore.
As carefully as I could, I lifted Lawrence’s heavy head off my shoulder.
Oh, shut up and kiss me,” I breathed.
Lawrence did.
As soon as his lips touched mine, a sense of bliss overpowered me. Silently I thanked some divine entity that I was sitting down, as my knees may have given way otherwise. All of a sudden, I felt... Complete. Although I had never realized it before, the missing piece of the jigsaw of my heart had just been found, and Lawrence had slotted it back in place.
I could have happily stayed there forever.
And, to a certain extent, I had planned to, until the two of us heard the footsteps on the flagstones a few feet away from us.

Imprint

Publication Date: 09-12-2011

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
To all the suffragettes of 1903-1918, the inspiration for this book. Particularly Millicent Fawcett, Emmilene, Christabel and Sylvia pankhurst, and, of course, Emily Davidson. Deeds not words!