Amberley Hall (A Harry Styles Short)

The Glasshouse

The exquisite sanctuary of the round glasshouse provides a perfect escape from the frivolous gossip that has no doubt ensued over cards.  Intricate swirl patterns adorn the frames that hold a myriad of cut glass shapes in place.  The surroundings are lusciously rich in greenery that is pleasing upon my eye and titillating around my nostrils.

The pretty cast iron bench upon which I perch is cold through the thin layers of tulle skirt and a chill ascends my spine to shiver across my shoulders.  Were it not for the clear night sky majestically twinkling through the uninterrupted view above, I would surely be sat in complete darkness.

I rest in my solitude questioning Lord Styles' attentiveness this evening.  Have I been naïve of his intentions towards me?  No, for he has displayed the utmost of gentlemanly conduct; he was caught up in nothing more than a moment at the piano where he forgot who he is and where he was. I dismiss his behaviour as nothing more than that for he has had much on his mind of late.

"I have been searching for you, for you did not return."  Harry's verbal expressiveness from behind me causes me to hastily stand with the intention of heading back inside. 

"Please forgive me for I had become lost of time."  I stammer hurriedly. 

We stand facing one, well within the confines of what is considered right and proper but he remains the ever-chivalrous individual I admire.  However, his closeness is enough that the symmetry usually within me is curiously fluttering.  He extends to me the shawl he grasps in his fist.  "It's my Mother's, I thought you may be cold owing to the low temperature that resides in the air this evening." 

"Thank you for your kindness."  I turn and he places the beautiful soft wool snugly around my shoulders.  "Indeed, it is cold so I should return back inside, for my Aunt will be wondering where I have disappeared too."

"As we speak, she is being entertained by Mr Grimshaw with tales of his gallivanting around town.   Nicholas is quite the London socialite on the sly.  Also, it seems my Cousin Matthew clearly has designs on your Cousin Georgina.  She is thus far resisting his temptations but he is a relentless rogue."  His smile is friendly but I remain cautiously impassive. 

His words, although reassuring me I am not being missed, are meant to stall me from fleeing away from him.  He steps forwards.  I step back.  The seat impedes me from placing even the slightest more space between us. 

"I would like it if you would do me the honour of sitting here with me for a moment?"  He articulates tenderly. 

I do not resist for fear of being rude. He has, after all, been most generous and hospitable this evening.  We mirror each other as we settle back upon the seat, our hands rest in our laps.

"You have been out here a while, do you not wish to join the ladies for cards this evening?" Harry enquires.

"I do very much enjoy games but not so much the frivolous talk that accompanies them." I reply softly.

"I am unsure whether to laugh in agreement or be highly offended at your words towards my dinner guests!" 

"Harry, I mean no disrespect.  Lady Winston and Mrs Corden have kind dispositions but my Aunt and Cousins are warring upon my strength." I sigh resignedly.

"I think your Uncle Rupert loves you very much but your Aunt Frances has been rather unkind towards you on occasion.  I do not wish to speak out of turn but I find it totally disagreeable."

"Your concern is gracious but I have come to accept that there is very little room for me in her affections.  It is enough for her to keep up with Georgina and Lawrence."