Promises

Chapter 2-2

Charles sat down to dinner, alone as always. Coulson delivered him a fine-looking plate of rabbit with buttery potatoes and cabbage. He poured a fragrant gravy over the plate and sipped his elderflower cordial. A particular favourite of his. His guest had remained firmly within his chamber for the remainder of the day, and Coulson reported that as of an hour ago, he was in exactly the same position they had left him in, so Charles felt safe to dine alone. Of late, his appetite had been poor, but he found that today he was quite hungry. He cut a piece of meat and scooped up some gravy, but before he could get it to his mouth, the door opened. He remained poised, fork halfway to his mouth. Coulson bowed and stood aside to admit his guest.

Charles put the fork down and his deeply ingrained manners made him stand.

He cleared his throat and put his napkin on the table. “Forgive me, I would have waited for you had I realised you would be recovered enough to eat.”

Farrah blinked and nodded awkwardly. He looked pale and washed out. Those dark brown eyes dull, and his hair damp from what appeared to be his attempts to tame it. At least he had changed into something clean, and his shirt points no longer looked as though they might stab him in the eye.

He cleared his throat, and there was a definite touch of pink on his cheeks. “Captain Hawkins. Please accept my apologies. I had no business arriving on your doorstep in such condition.” He seemed to be having trouble meeting Charles’ eye.

Charles bit back a sigh. “Apology accepted.”

“I feel we should…begin again?” He glanced up with uncertainty in his eyes. “Sebastian Farrah, at your service.” He held out a hand.

“Hawkins.” He took the proffered hand and shook. It was warm, dry, and firm.

“Captain Hawkins. I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s good of you to have me.”

They faced each other. Charles shook himself. His wits had clearly gone begging. It was that long since he had entertained any company. He gestured to the table and the plate of food that sat there. “Could you manage some rabbit?”

Farrah offered a tentative smile. “If it’s not too much trouble?”

“Coulson, could you arrange for a plate for Mr. Farrah?”

Coulson held out a chair for Farrah, and then left them.

Charles resumed his seat and looked at the man sat across the table from him. The silence became awkward. Charles cleared his throat. “I trust you are not feeling the after-effects too badly?”

Farrah swallowed and flicked a swift glance up, but then fiddled with his cutlery, his gaze remaining firmly on his hands. “Thank you. Not too bad.”

Charles was surprised. Sober, he seemed almost reserved. He was saved from thinking of something else to say when Coulson arrived with a tray containing a plate of rabbit and a glass of cordial for Farrah.

“This looks splendid. Thank you.” He smiled at Coulson and then picked up his glass. He sniffed at the contents and shot an enquiring look at Charles.

“Elderflower. I don’t drink above much.”

Farrah nodded. “So I believe.” He sipped tentatively at the drink and then raised his eyebrows. “It’s rather pleasant.”

Charles just nodded and applied himself to his food. Farrah followed suit. Neither of them spoke. Farrah cleared his plate quickly, but Charles’ appetite gave out half way through. He placed his cutlery neatly on the plate. He watched as Farrah dabbed his napkin against his lips and then put it on the table.

“That was delicious. My compliments to your cook.”

Coulson opened the door and brought in the tea tray. He placed it on the table, giving each of them a china cup and a side plate containing a slice of sponge cake. He took the dishes.

Farrah was eyeing the teapot as if it might bite.

“Would you like a cup?”

“Ah…yes. Thank you.”

They sipped in silence.

“So, what exactly did you do to make your brother feel you needed a month in my company?”