Harry's P.O.V
Between Mum's threats and the fear of Mr. Williams finding out, I'm trying my damndest to be a proper gentleman to Hazel. But as fate would have it, temptation seems to lurk around every corner.
Having her alone in a hotel room all to myself for a few hours, knowing a warm bed is just a mere few feet from us, and seeing how willing and daring my Hazel has become, sends my body into overdrive.
Anxiety pulls at my conscience, though. It doesn't help either that over the last week I've been plagued by nightmares of going to war. It seems like the Williams and Jack Westwood are convinced it will happen.
But what would that mean for Hazel and I?
What if I took advantage of Hazel right now and never had the chance to marry her? I'd ruin her. Or worse, what if I came home? I'd never let myself hurt her the way my own father hurt Mum, Gem and I. But I don't know what kind of monster I'd become if I went to war. What if I couldn't stop it- What if I couldn't stop becoming him?
"Is everything alright?" Hazel asks, breaking me from my swirling, doomed thoughts. I look over at her sweet innocent face. I want nothing more than to make sure she has the perfect time here.
"Perfectly fine," I lie.
She pauses, assessing my face. I try to shoot her a quick smile, but her thick brows knit together proving that she isn't convinced. I can't tell if I love how easily she can see the real me or hate that she can read my every move.
It doesn't help that as we make our way through the luxurious lobby, I can't help but feel there's a thousand eyes on me. With her pearls and neatly pressed clothes, Hazel looks like she fits right in. Meanwhile, I gulp hoping no one notices the small hole forming in the edge of my sweater that mum knitted me ages ago.
"Would you mind if we just take a walk and see where we find ourselves?" Hazel asks. "That's what I used to do when we would escape to the city for a trip."
"What sorts of things would you get up to?" I ask, trying my hardest to imagine her life- her real life. The one she would be getting back to at some point. Again, anxiety lurches in my stomach.
Hazel goes on to tell me about sneaking into jazz clubs with her devilish brother and taking her younger sisters round some famous park all while we travel about Central London. We walk past famous buildings, dressed up window shops, and end up arm in arm walking through Hyde Park. We walk for what seems like hours, our conversation never stalling.
"Your Uncle's expecting us at seven for dinner," I say, looking down at my wristwatch.
"How much time does that give us?" she asks, her brown eyes wide.
"We've still got another 30 minutes or so," I say. She nods and tucks her arm further into mine. It's so lovely to walk this easily with her in public.
"I've had a marvelous day with you," she says, resting her head on my shoulder as we walk. "London is a dream."
"D'you reckon you could see yourself living in such a place?" I ask, taking my shot.
"London?" she considers. "It's fascinating to visit. I'm not sure about live, though."
"How so?"
"Well, it's just, I want to live a life much bigger than the one back home, but I also can't imagine spending my whole life away from my family. They mean so much to me."
I nod quietly, disappointed. What's the point in all of this if she won't live anywhere but America? Could I ever leave England? Leave my job? Mum, Gem, and Robin?
"How about you?" she asks, her eyes cautiously flickering up to mine. "Do you ever see yourself living... elsewhere?"
I think carefully. I don't want a fight, but I don't want to outright lie to the girl.
"Haven't thought much about it," I say, settling on a half-truth.
She seems to chew on this and thankfully doesn't push it.
She's very cute when she scrunches her nose while deep in thought. Without thinking, I lean down and place a kiss on her rosy cheek. She looks up at me with such a genuine smile it makes my heart leap to my throat.
"Come on, let's head back," I say to her, clasping her tight to me.
When we return to the hotel, Hazel heads upstairs to change and dress for dinner. I only have the clothes I'm in so there's use in pretending I'm changing. I stay instead in the lobby, waiting for Mr. Williams. It doesn't take long for Mr. Williams to show, with a brighter smile than I've ever seen on the man. In fact, he walks with such a pep in his step it seems to hide his usual hobble.
"Sir," I say, rising from a velvet chair seated in the black and white hall.
"Ah, Harry, my boy!" Mr Williams exclaims, marching over on his cane towards me, an older gentleman following him in tow. "And how was the day with dear Hazel?"
"Just grand, sir." I reply, eyeing the other man "Thank you for the sight seeing tips. We just barely scratched the surface."
"I figured as much. A town like London has so much to offer."
"How was your visit?" I ask.
"Ah, well, not quite finished." He smiles. "This here is my friend Arthur Matthews."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr Matthews." I say, shaking his hand.
"Please, Arthur is just fine." The man smiles. He has a narrow face, his high cheekbones accentuated by his wide smile. "You must be the young lad Ben here can't stop raving about!"
"Oh I don't know about that.." I nervously say.
"Pish- Anyone who makes my life easier as a hobbling old man deserves much respect," Mr Williams says grabbing my shoulder.
"And here comes my lovely niece, Hazel!" Mr. Williams exclaims. All three of us turn to see Hazel make her way towards us, her hands placed neatly in front of her as she holds her small bag. Her eyes light up as she sees me, and I can't help but let out a little sigh.
Christ, I'm a goner.
"Uncle Ben," she says as she moves towards us. "What a marvelous day we've had! You wouldn't believe all the things we managed to see!"
"I've heard it was a good day. Glad to know Harry here has a future in not just administration but perhaps tour guides as well." He lets out a chuckle at his own joke.
"Can I introduce you to my friend here," he says, introducing Arthur to Hazel. The two exchange pleasantries before the four of us make our way to the dinning room for supper.
The banquet hall is the grandest room I've ever been in. I stick out like giant thumb in my worn out jacket and sweater whereas the other men come dressed in fine suits.
Just breathe, Harry. I tell myself. I'm not going to stay stuck on that little farm back home. I can do this.
As I mentally push through the awkwardness I feel, the group dives into conversation.
"You really must go to the National Gallery while you're here," Arthur says sipping on a glass of red wine.
"Do you like art, Hazel?" He asks.
"I can't say I'm very knowledgeable on the subject, but I suppose I love anything that explores humanity."
"A thoughtful answer," Arthur says, raising his glass.
"And you Harry?" He asks.
"'Fraid I'm in the same boat as Hazel here." I say.
"To be young," Mr Williams chuckles. "Remember when we didn't have a clue about the world, Arthur?"
"Those were such fine days. Although, I get the sense Harry here doesn't get up to much trouble like we did."
I nervously smile. I'm thankful my somewhat sordid past has managed to stay exactly where it is- in the past.
"You mean the trouble you got us both in," Mr Williams lets out a hearty laugh.
"How is it you two met?" Hazel asks. Her eyes glitter with the light of the chandelier above us.
"Boarding school. We both went to Eton together." Arthur replies.
Hazel nods but doesn't seem fazed by the name dropping.
"We were roommates together. Ended up fighting in the war together. Can't believe we survived not only the Germans but Mr. Lawrence's literature class after the antics this one pulled," Mr Williams laughs.
Arthur places his hand on Mr. Williams shoulder as the two men laugh, but I can't help but notice that his hand lays there for just a moment too long, longer than I'd feel comfortable with. Mr. Williams seems to notice and shrugs the man off.
I look over at Hazel, curious to see if she's noticed, but she just smiles and laughs as though nothing happened.
"You're such a gentleman, I can hardly see you as the rebel," Hazel says to her uncle.
"Well the real rebel was your mother," He says, mischief alight in his eyes. Hazel leans forward as if she's never heard this information before.
"You know it was quite the scandal, your father and her," he adds, taking another sip of wine. "But I think it secretly came as a relief to your Grandmother."
"Do tell," she asks, sitting on the edge of her seat.
"When we'd stay in the country, she'd stay in the room you're in right now. I don't know if you've noticed, but there's a lattice on the side of the window..."
Hazel slightly chokes on her bite of food as I spit back into my cup.
"She'd shimmy right on down the thing to run off with her friends, leaving your Grandmother just about losing her mind," Mr Williams laughs. "It's amazing she didn't rip it out before you came."
"Mother? Really?" Hazel breathes, the apple of her cheeks flushing.
"When we were in London, she'd use the dumbwaiter as her escape," Mr. Williams add. "She was a tiny thing like yourself. Scrappy too."
"I can't even imagine it," Hazel says. I sit back in my seat and wonder about Hazel's family. The more I hear about them, the more I just want to meet them and know them. The woman I hear Mr Williams describe would certainly be friends with my own crazy mum.
The table continues to laugh and chat, reminiscing about recent and old times, well into the night.
"I should think you all are awfully tired from your journey and busy day," Arthur says as the clock strikes 10.
"Why don't the two of you head upstairs. I'll be up in just a bit," Mr Williams replies.
"It was most wonderful meeting you," Hazel says to Arthur as we stand up. "We'll see you tomorrow night at the party, yes?"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world." He replies. I'm glad someone pleasant will be at this shindig. I have so many plans and goals to change my status in life, but learning how to function in society life has to be my least favourite.
"It'll be grand to know someone already," I tell Arthur.
"You'll do just fine, lad. Just be yourself. You've nothing to concern yourself with." He smiles.
Hazel and I make our upstairs and eventually stand outside her bedroom door.
"Well, this is me," she says, placing her key in the door. She opens it just ajar, before turning back round.
"I really had a marvelous day with you Harry," she says. My ego swells.
"And I with you," I tell her.
She looks down at her feet and then back up at me, as if wanting to ask something, but not quite sure how.
I get the sense it may be something too tempting for me to say no to, so before she says anything further, I look both ways down the hall, and once seeing it's clear, plant a kiss on her lips quickly.
"I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"
"Yeah," she grins.
"Goodnight," she says, her voice as gentle as an angels.
"Goodnight," I say back.
The door closes in front of me and I rest my forehead against it. How I long to follow her in there, to kiss and touch her everywhere, to have her be mine and only mind.
"Ugh, damn it all," I mutter to myself, pushing my way off the door and heading into my room.
The bedroom is far grander than I could imagine, with a four post bed and satin sheets. I wonder if this is what Hazel expects from a man to provide- I shake my head and tussle my hair trying to toss the thought and looming pressure from my mind.
I throw my sweater on a nearby chair and unbutton my shirt, suspenders hanging at my side. I'm not quite ready for sleep, so I grab a book of poetry I've yet to finish. I sit there in bed reading, when I hear the tiniest knock through the wall.
I look up. Did I imagine it?
Again, a rhythmic four knocks tap against the wall. I realize then that it's the wall I share with Hazel's room.
I smile.
I give the same rhythmic knock back, waiting to see if she returns it with anything. Through the wall, I swear I hear the faintest of giggles.
She's nuts, I laugh to myself.
We do this for a few minutes, before she doesn't knock back, presumably because she finally fell asleep. I have half the mind to go sneak over there, but I know it isn't right.
I turn off the light and settle into bed. I lay on my back, my hands resting behind my head as I stare up at the swirling wallpaper on the ceiling.
I close my eyes, when images of gruff hands flying at me and the sounds of mum's screams fill my brain.
"Ugh!" I run my hands over my eyes. I can't shake the images of Father and his impact on all of us. War ruined the man. And now I was faced with the nightmare- would it ruin me too?