Page 7 of The Curious Story of the Missing Lady
“Here we are with the champagne, at last,” said Papa. “Where on earth is your mother?”
“I’m right behind you, Ambrose,” said Mama, “no need to send out a party.”
“Ah, of course, said Papa. “Now then, everyone take a glass and allow me to propose a toast. Here’s to a joyous union, perfect fellowship, and a son to the house of Hartwell.”
“Hear, hear,” said Mama, the echo of her sentiment following.
“And now, Lord Oliver, I insist you stay for dinner.”
“Oh, I couldn’t—”
“I insist,” said Papa, his face lowered.
“In that case, how could I refuse? I shall be delighted.”
Papa’s face beamed. “My dear, you talked to Mrs Hastings?”
“I did. She’s all set.”
“You had it all worked out in advance,” said Madeline.
“My dear,” said Mama, “you can’t run a house on a whim.”
“You’ll be most welcome, Lord Oliver. I’ve invited an old friend of mine. Mr Ethan Powell, have you heard of him?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t.”
“Ethan Powell,” said Emily. “Oh dear.”
“Who is he?” said Oliver.
“You meanwhatis he?” said Madeline. “Ethan Powell is a force of nature. He’s rather an odd duck. Papa insists on inviting him to all sorts of affairs.”
“Now, now,” Papa rebuked, “there shall be none of that. The man saved my life in the war.”
“I’m sure he did it because it was in fashion to do so,” said Madeline.
“Child, that is not fair.”
“It most certainly is,” said Mama.
“Now I’m intrigued,” said Oliver. “Who, orwhatis this man?”
“Mr Powell is an artist and a poet,” said Emily. “I’m sure you’ll find him ... well, you’ll find him; let’s just leave it at that.”
“He’s an eccentric, to be sure,” said Papa. “But he’s brilliant, and good company and I wouldn’t dream of calling him a stranger to this family or this house, ever. I’m afraid, my loves, you’re outnumbered by a majority of one. And you’ll all just have to grin and bear it.”
“Grinning is a task on its own,” said Mama. “Bearing it another matter altogether. But my husband has spoken. Take copious notes, Oliver.”
They shared a laugh, and they drank and talked of small things. And soon it was time for dinner.
Chapter 4
When he was a boy, Lord Oliver Hartwell’s father had taught him to stand up for principle, to champion morals, to assert his presence in the world, and all the attendant lessons a father with fine intentions imparts to his son. And so, Lord Oliver Hartwell the man carried these principles in his heart. And he knew with the surety of the coming of the seasons that such principles were not just there for decoration. Such principles had to be employed in the service of the man and his attention.
And so, Lord Oliver knew that he had to be prepared for whatever life had to offer him.
And he was, to a degree. For whatever he was prepared for in life – with thanks and gratitude to his fine father – he was by no means prepared – nor could he have been – for the spectacle that glided through the doorway in the personage of Mr Ethan Powell, formerly of Yorkshire, late of London.
