An Untimely Romance: A Time Travel Romance by J Wells, L Wells Page B

heavy feeling in the air.
    Lifting the mood
slightly, Frank continued. “No, sir, I’m certainly not, as you put it, short of
a bob or two. In fact, I am a very wealthy man, all of my own making, and will
be wealthier still in the near future. As we speak, my dear Aunt Bertha lies on
her deathbed, and upon her passing, I will receive a very handsome sum.” Frank
surveyed his surroundings. “You see, sir, as an example, I would be able to
afford Freesdon Manor...” He paused, as if deep in thought. “...five or six times
over perhaps, and still be the wealthiest man in these parts. Although I regret
there is a clause.”
    Ruben coughed,
interrupting the conversation, and quickly changed the subject.
    “Well, I must say,
you’ve both done a grand job with this place. I’m well impressed. Can’t wait
for dinner; what’s on the menu, Faye?” he said, leaving Frank hanging
mid-sentence.
    Walter beamed, looking
very proud upon hearing Ruben’s complimentary words. He rose to his feet and
tapped his half-empty wine glass with a knife.
    “I think a toast is in
order before we dine, don’t you agree?” he said, addressing his guests and
smiling with admiration as he looked around the room. “To Freesdon Manor.”
    “To Freesdon Manor,”
they replied, raising their glasses.
    The dining room was
like a historical work of art. The sturdy wooden table held many chairs, and
the small party seated at one end was almost lost in its enormity. It was
dressed beautifully, its centrepiece being an antique candelabrum that provided
subtle lighting. The wooden panelling to the walls appeared to have been
fashionable in olden times and could be found in most of the rooms; in this
room, however, the walls were only partially clad, accompanied by a bold
patterned paper somewhat hidden by nameless portraits. 
    “Ah yes, Ruben, getting
back to this evening’s menu,” Faye began. “We’re starting with soup; I’m sure
the waiter said tomato and basil.”
    “Waiter?” Heather
chuckled.
    “Yes, a waiter,” Walter
said. “Thought I’d give ya mum a break from the kitchen tonight and employed a
couple of the new starts to look after us. Edison’s a qualified cook in any
case and will be working for us permanently in the tearoom, and Sami, his
brother, will be serving us, you know, butler style.”
    “As I was saying,” Faye
grumbled, “before I was rudely interrupted... Followed by caramelised roast duck
served with chunky steamed veg, and I’m sure the sweet is a trio of chocolate
truffles. Well, if you haven’t a sweet tooth, there’s plenty to choose from off
the cheese board.”
    “Sounds delightful,”
Frank said as he inhaled deeply.
    Heather also took in
the fresh scent of herbs approaching.
    Sami approached the
table carrying several large soup bowls.
    “Butler style,” Heather
joked, looking at his black suit with starched collar and matching dicky bow.
“You weren’t joking there, were ya, Dad?”
    Ruben’s stomach growled
in hunger and he grabbed the plate of bread rolls, only to be pulled up
abruptly by Frank.
    “A bit hasty, are we
not? Shall we say grace?” 
    “Are you for real?”
Ruben snapped, as if momentarily forgetting where he was and stuffing as much
of the soft roll into his mouth as he possibly could. “Grace!” he spluttered,
small pieces of bread flying everywhere.
    Frank looked away,
shaking his head in disgust. “We are amongst ladies, sir. Have you completely
forgotten your manners?”
    Ruben fidgeted in his
chair, flustered, perhaps due to the negative looks aimed in his direction.
    “Sorry, Walter,” he
said. Lowering his eyes, he avoided his glare.
    “No, Ruben, don’t
apologise. We don’t say grace, Frankie, never have and never will. So don’t try
to change us and make us like you,” Heather snapped, quick to jump to her
boyfriend’s defence.
    “Now, young lady,
that’s quite enough of that. There’s a lot to be said about old traditions and
family values;