Chapter Twelve #2
Since going to Scotland, he had the urge to see more of the world, and perhaps they would when he and Cathryn went on their wedding trip which they were planning on doing the next spring.
When they pulled up in front of the jeweler, they found a large sign on the window. Arthur had the coachman get down and read the sign. The man quickly returned, telling Arthur the shop was closed due to a death in the family. They would reopen in a week’s time.
“Anywhere else you’d like to go?” his brother asked him.
“No, not unless you can recommend another jeweler.”
“There are one or two I have used in the past, but for something as important and meaningful as a wedding ring, I’d seek out only the best.”
“I agree,” Charles replied. “I’ll go through Mother’s jewelry and see if there’s anything appropriate, if that’s still fine with you.”
“Of course it is.”
“Very well. Anything else you fancy doing?”
“No, nothing that can’t wait,” Arthur replied. “Let’s go home.”
They rode in silence for what seemed forever.
The traffic in this part of London was horrid.
It always seemed to be non-ending, and there was never a good time.
Early mornings the delivery men were out, then businessmen, and in the evenings, it was the ton out for everyone to see them in their finery as they made their way to balls, soirees, or the theater.
“I believe we’ll have the house to ourselves when we arrive. Daphne and Cathryn were supposed to go to tea at the dowager duchess of Blackpool’s house,” Arthur said.
Charles nodded but said nothing. He was staring out the window at all the commotion the traffic caused.
Arthur knew Charles well enough now to know that even if he didn’t respond, it didn’t mean he hadn’t heard the conversation.
“Charles?”
“Yes, the women have gone to have tea,” Charles said.
“And…”
“You can show me Mother’s jewelry without either of them walking in on us.
“Yes, would you like to do that?” Arthur asked.
“I would,” Charles replied with a nod of his head.
Before they knew it, the carriage pulled up in front of the family home.
Charles was out of the carriage before any of the footmen could ready the carriage.
He didn’t wait for his brother but rather moved quickly into the house.
Removing his hat and gloves, he placed them on a nearby table.
Arthur walked in and the process repeated itself.
“Join me in my study when you’re ready,” Arthur said.
“I’ll be there shortly.”
Charles needed to have a moment to catch his breath.
There was only so much riding in a carriage in town he could tolerate.
He found them claustrophobic. He needed to regroup and put this out of his mind.
Arthur always made him feel at ease and never forced him into anything.
His brother always let him take whatever time he might need.
The one thing he missed about Kent was being able to simply go out and walk whenever and wherever he wanted. It helped him in more ways than one. It not only refreshed him but renewed him as well. It had the same effect on him as taking a nap during the day did for others.
When Charles did enter Arthur’s study, he found his brother setting out a box on his desk. He watched Arthur open the box and then shut it again. He glanced up upon seeing Charles.
“Have a seat. Would you like a whiskey?”
“Yes,” Charles replied.
“The box is open. Go ahead and look through it. These were Mother’s rings. Perhaps there might be something suitable.”
Sitting in front of the closed red leather box, Charles waited a moment to open it. He wondered if he might recognize any pieces. If he did, would he remember where he saw them? So much of his early life, his early childhood, was deja vu.
Arthur handed him a glass half full of whiskey.
He took a good swallow, set it to his right, and placing both hands on the box, he opened it.
Inside were at least two dozen rings of various shapes, stones, and metal.
Why would anyone need this many rings? He corrected himself silently.
Women liked to collect, especially jewelry. Their mother was no different.
He began to pick up various rings and look closely at them, not needing any help with the pieces. Arthur tried to supply what he knew about a piece; if it was a favorite of their mother’s or she rarely wore it.
Picking up a striking emerald ring, he began to look it over closely. The emerald was a good size emerald cut with three diamonds on each side of it. He put it aside and continued to look. It seemed rubies were their mother’s favorite stone apart from diamonds.
“Are any of these part of a set?” he asked his brother.
“No.”
He ran across two more emerald rings. Taking them out of the box, he studied them closer.
Neither was as nice as the first one, so he returned them to the red leather box.
He found two sapphire rings. They were nice but they were still not as nice as the emerald.
Emerald was most definitely Cathryn’s stone.
“You like this one?” Arthur asked, pointing to the emerald sitting to the side.
Charles arched a brow and nodded. “Emerald is the color that looks best on her.”
“It’s a beautiful choice.”
“Do you think she’ll like it?” Charles asked.
“Yes. I can’t imagine any woman not liking it.”
“Good, then I made the right choice.”
Shutting the box, he moved it forward toward Arthur who was sitting behind the desk. Then he picked up his glass and finished the whiskey in the glass beside him.
“Are you going to take Cathryn with you to Oxford when you go to speak?”
“I haven’t decided but probably not. She’d have to spend most of the time on her own.”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” Arthur said.
“Yes, I had. In great detail.”
“If you decide you want company, let me know. I’ll see if I can’t rearrange my day if needed.”
“You’re too kind, but trust me, I’ve been on my own for years even though I was confined to Wight. I know how to adapt to my surroundings.”
“I don’t want you thinking you have to be alone when you don’t have to be. That part of your life is in the past,” Arthur said.
It might be in the past, but it would always be a part of him. Because of the solitude, he found it hard to make friends or even be around a lot of people. Back then, and even today, people thought he was mad to one degree or another. And maybe they were right. Maybe he was a little mad.