Page 50 of The Songbird of Wychwood

“No, I’m not, not yet anyways, but I will be,” he said distractedly. “I’ve so many fond memories of the place and some of the people. I’m sad to turn my back on the Middlesex. You’re a good friend, Percy. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t offered me a place to stay. And, as you said, there’s a big world out there.”

“There is,” I paused for a beat. “Would you mind awfully if I…shared it with you?”

“The world or the apartment? George grinned. “There’s plenty of space in both!” He halted for a moment before tentatively asking, “Do you really want to live with me?”

“I do. I think a change all round is good for us, don’t you? Imagine sleeping in the same bed each night. Imagine being free to gamahuche me whenever you please. It will be quite the adventure.”

“I want to kiss the face off you Percy Harcourt!” George admitted with a foxy grin, “But I guess as we’re living together now, I can save it for later and take my sweet time!”

Goodness, I ran a finger around my collar to loosen it. It was…rather warm in the carriage. But I must admit I was already pleased with my decision.

“I hope you can cook something edible, cos a boiled egg and toast is just about all that I can manage,” George laughed.

“No matter, I’ll be placing a regular order with Fortnum and Mason to ensure we received a weekly delivery of groceries, and I’ll employ a daily cook, and a char lady to clean the place once a week and do the laundry.” George snuggled into me and laid his head on my shoulder and snuck his hand into mine.

“We’re going to be just fine, you and I, you’ll see!” he said, sounding brighter than he had done a few minutes ago.

When the carriage pulled up on Hamilton Place, Eloise was waiting at the door. I’d given her a pound note and asked her if she could buy victuals enough to see us well fed tonight. And from the baskets of foodstuffs she held, she’d done just that.

George and I were assisted by my driver to carry the remaining costume trunks and cases into the hallway. There was quite a pile now, as George kept a lot of the costumes and dresses that his mother had created to showcase her talents. He did not want to part with them or leave them for Grayson to pick over. But luckily the apartment had a great deal of space, four sizable bedrooms, a lounge, a study, a bathroom, and a kitchen. There was even a grand piano in the foyer that had been hidden under a white Holland cover. We would make space, find a room that George could call his own and use as his music room.

Eloise prepared a meal of fresh bread, warm mutton, meat pies, cheese, apples, and wine that she’d purchased from a local market. However, she was performing again tonight, and so after eating with us she had to take her leave.

“I hope you’re both very happy here. You deserve to be happy,” she said raising her glass for a final toast. We drank and then said our goodbyes. Eloise hugged us both and then headed for the door.

“Send a note when you get word about what’s happened to Grayson,” George called.

“Will do!” Eloise replied before the front door slammed shut.

Silence settled in the kitchen and I sank into it. George was now away from the clutches Alfred Grayson and safely ensconced in my apartment. I sat looking at him across the kitchen table and listened to the soft ticking of the clock on the mantle. Yes, I liked this. This felt right.

“I shall send a note to Blackwood Hall and instruct my manservant to pack up my room. I must say, it will be rather strange to not have a man-of-all-work at my beck and call. I suppose I shall have to learn to do things myself…will you teach me how to darn my socks?” I said wistfully.

“Oh, beloved. You stick to writing love poetry and I shall happily care for your wardrobe, and your holy socks!” We laughed and then George stood. “Come, before the daylight goes, let’s have a look around. We have to set the fires, and work out which room we’re sleeping in.”

I was so glad that my George was a practical sort of fellow because setting the fires hadn’t even crossed my mind!

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