10-08-2022, 10:03 AM
(This post was last modified: 10-08-2022, 10:12 AM by Gareth Scott.)
Mrs. Howard’s renowned tearoom had an additional room in the back that was used on busy summer days and could be booked by private parties on other occasions. It’s large, elegant windows looked out over a small private yard with pots of plants on the ground, table, and wrought iron folding chairs. The room itself breathed the opulence that the tearoom’s patrons were accustomed to. The walls had paintings of well-known artists displaying the bucolic 'bliss' the patrons idealized because they did not understand it, as well as city scenes from Paris, New York, and Venice, which said patrons probably knew quite well. There were rich tapestries woven in foreign lands, narrating events from foreign folklore. There were round tables with stainless white silk tablecloth and beautifully carved chairs, as well as mahogany armchairs with scarlet upholstery by the fire.
Gareth sat in one of the armchairs by the fire, waiting for his guest. Renting this room had cost him a fortune, but fuck it, he had money now, and by his understanding, Lady Lailani McKenzie was some kind of nobility in Hawaiian ranks, and well connected to British aristocracy on her father’s side. He could hardly invite her to meet him in the pub down the road. And this would be worth it, he was certain. Lady McKenzie was rich, high-born, exotic, beautiful, intelligent, and scandalous. How could any reporter with healthy sensationalist and commercialist inclinations resist?
From behind the thick curtain that hung over the doorway to the public tearoom, Gareth could hear the muffled sound of chatter, cups on saucers and cutlery. Every now and again, his eyes darted over the curtain, when he thought he heard someone approaching. He wanted to be ready to greet the lady as correctly as possible and impress her. He had dressed in his best suit, had gone for a shave, just two hours ago, and had practiced the posh way of speaking he had learned at boarding school. Everything had to be perfect today. When the curtain moved at last, he quickly rose and once again straightened his tie, before quickly dropping his hands.
Gareth sat in one of the armchairs by the fire, waiting for his guest. Renting this room had cost him a fortune, but fuck it, he had money now, and by his understanding, Lady Lailani McKenzie was some kind of nobility in Hawaiian ranks, and well connected to British aristocracy on her father’s side. He could hardly invite her to meet him in the pub down the road. And this would be worth it, he was certain. Lady McKenzie was rich, high-born, exotic, beautiful, intelligent, and scandalous. How could any reporter with healthy sensationalist and commercialist inclinations resist?
From behind the thick curtain that hung over the doorway to the public tearoom, Gareth could hear the muffled sound of chatter, cups on saucers and cutlery. Every now and again, his eyes darted over the curtain, when he thought he heard someone approaching. He wanted to be ready to greet the lady as correctly as possible and impress her. He had dressed in his best suit, had gone for a shave, just two hours ago, and had practiced the posh way of speaking he had learned at boarding school. Everything had to be perfect today. When the curtain moved at last, he quickly rose and once again straightened his tie, before quickly dropping his hands.