Chapter 1
By: Amanda Punzalan
1819 London
Chapter 1
By: Amanda Punzalan
1819 London
John Manley, Count of Manarte, was considered a very shy gentleman in society. Everyday he stayed indoors and painted away...he mixed his paint just to match his mixed emotions sorrow, aloneness, and despair. All those emotions described him. It was impossible to consider him happy and energetic. His social reputation was below the average level of whatever it was people seemed to view it as. Expressing himself through his paintings was social enough...he communicated to a piece of canvas abstractly. Never had he read his invitations. Nor did he like reading what people had to say in letters or calling cards. He simply placed it under his rug and left it there to collect dust, forgetting about it completely. His servant Larry Gentry knew everything about him and he was one to confide in him.
After the loss of John’s beloved Caroline Windsey, he stole into solitude and was forever in depression. It was like a curse. He couldn't get himself to move on. It had been years since he had been with a lady since the incident upon her loss...John never left the house.
The last time John went to a social gathering, he was forced by the king to attend a ball he hadn't desired to attend. Everyone knew him after that incident that he was no longer a stranger. He became the talk of the season until finally the gossip had diminished and John was no longer spoken of. At least that's how it seemed. After all that had taken place, John insisted that he never step foot in society for as long as it took.
The only time John ever went out was when he was going to paint a scene. He was a man inspired by nature and by his father who was an impressionist, one who succeeded. At that revelation, John strived to do what his father had done. Today John was to paint near the lake, for it was bright out. Hopefully there wasn't anyone near there; he wanted to be alone, dwelling in peace and quiet.
"Larry?" John said softly.
His servant Larry stood at the study door. "Yes milord?"
"I'd like to go to the lake now..."
"Gladly, I will fetch the carriage.” He then left the room and John gathered his painting tools and took up his easel.
When they arrived at the sight, he smiled for he was pleased to find that nature had been kind. John placed his easel upon the ground as well as his little stool. He began to paint and all he could hear were the birds chirping and the sound of the bustling trees. An hour had passed and the painting was coming alive and it seemed more real after every graceful stroke he commissioned. He continued to mix his colors in the mixing pan.
The trees were willowing into perfection and the lake reflected the things above. A rush of wind passed again and again and finally he was about finished. Suddenly something sounded behind him and before he could turn around a lady's soft voice began to speak.
"It's beautiful."
John turned around in horror that he nearly fell off his stool. The lady smiled kindly.
“I didn't mean to startle you--"Abruptly, she paused, "Oh it's you! Are you Lord Manarte? John Manley?"
"Yes...uh..." Without another word, John was grabbing his things and quickly placing them in his carriage with hope that she would just go away.
"What ever is the matter?"
"I must leave.” He then turned to her to see who had ruined the day. She was a beautiful young lady and John wasn‘t the least bit surprised. In fact, he was mortified. he couldn’t move, think, or breathe.
"Don't go.... I-I just want to see your paintings."
"I...no.” he said flatly, “Please...Miss…Miss..."
"Miss Williams. My name is Violet Williams. I’m..."
John looked to the ground in utter silence as his painting tools hung at his sides. He stood tall and handsome, and for some reason her eyes couldn't leave his. “I don't wish for your company or anyone else’s in that matter." He said softly.
"Well, I wish for company...you can't hide away forever."
"Yes, I can." He then placed his tools in the carriage. A little offended and irked.
"Can't I have tea with you? At least give me the honor of having a few words with you"
He stopped, “No..."He shook his head, “I don't drink tea. Nor do I have time to chit chat."
Violet was caught off guard by his sudden outburst of rudeness that her eyes widened in disbelief.
"Then perhaps you would be a kind gentleman and escort me to my home."
"Where do you live?"
"I live just across from here, just a mile away."
What?! Was she crazy? What in the world was she doing all the way over here? He thought.
"It's not far. Walk." He said bluntly. He turned around and started to climb into his carriage.
"How rude!" Violet boomed, “I never thought you, a shy man like you could be so---so rude!”
John sighed and paused, “Well, since you put it that way...I guess I shall...Do you know what chocolate is? Have you ever tried them?"
“I think I have heard of that before at one time, but I never tried them."
"It’s candy...shipped from Switzerland. The king sells them, you know."
"Oh..."
"Come...I-I shall take you to my home if you wish." He looked up to the sky as if he were looking to heaven, “But only for a while.”
Violet smiled and threw her arms around him. “Thank you! I am to be the first lady ever to grace your home."
"Well, there was my mother." John moved from her embrace, feeling very embarrassed that a lady had embraced him as if it were a natural thing. It wasn’t that she was a lady, but because she was a stranger that he felt uneasy. It was very uncommon, even in society. He then guided her onto the carriage as he was taught as a young lad. As soon as they sat inside, John sat across from her and looked the other way.
Violet stared at him in a way that she had never done before. She had never thought that the shy John Manley was a handsome gentleman...now seeing him for the first time, she considered him to be the most handsome man she had ever seen. In fact, he was the only man that made the most sought after bachelors look dull and unattractive. He had the most charming eyes. I was a light green and every time he'd turn in the direction of the sun, it would sparkle like it was water, reflecting the rays of the sun in all shapes and forms. His hair was a light brown and. It grew past his nape as it curled at the ends. He possessed a face of perfection, having no sign of a blemish. He looked utterly remarkably handsome.
"Why is it that you do not attend any social functions? Don't you like to speak to the people you grew up with?"
"I never knew them and there is completely nothing worth talking about."
"Oh...Is there a reason for your quiet demeanor?" She asked, “Have you always been this way?”
"It is none of your concern." He mumbled and glanced at her for a brief moment, then turned his attention elsewhere.
"Why do you look away like that?" She said as calmly as possible. John could die with answering all these questions. Did she ever not speak? John looked at her, irritated by her questions and sighed.
"I don't know. I just can't look at you."
"Why ever not?"
"I do not need to explain my reasons."
"Oh, I think I know..." She said cunningly.
"What?" He said abruptly, so irritated that if she were to ask another question he’d throw her out of the bloody carriage in a second.
"You're considered shy in society, but you talk as if you had not a care and that does not fall under the category of shyness--My, it does no wonder you..."
"Miss Williams, my being shy is not your concern. Please, enough."
"You're charming when you're serious and certainly hand--"
Suddenly the carriage stopped and John threw open the door.
"Speak no more. I-I...this is--"
"What is it? Can't take compliments very well?"
"I just don't want to hear it." He grounded out. Violet could tell she had hit a nerve. "Now let's get on with this meeting you seem to want so badly."
John headed up the steps to his home and Violet followed closely behind him and soon they entered a room that contained a table and a single chair. He took a chair from that was set against the wall and placed it in front of the table.
"You may have a seat. Larry..."Larry appeared at the door, "Please bring Miss Violet some chocolate bricks and bring up fresh hot chocolate."
Larry nodded and left, smiling in Violet's direction. John sighed, pretending he did not see the smile on Larry's face.
"Have a seat." He said again when she realized she wasn't sitting. "I'll be in my office."
"Why? I came to speak with you. Can we please talk or are you going to leave your so-called guest all alone."
John looked at her with eyes that showed of disappointment. Not because he was feeling sorry for Violet, but because she wouldn't leave him alone. "I’m going to my office."
"No."
"Yes."
"Then I have to join you."
"What do you want to talk about Miss Williams, I have nothing to say?"
"I do."
She followed him into his office and she plotted herself onto the sofa by the window. John sat at his desk and placed his spectacles at the bridge of his nose. Violet smiled, she had never seen a man that looked so charming in spectacles before. Most men looked ghastly. As he read through his things, Violet watched. John threw a few glances her way the feeling that she was invading his privacy.
"Would you kindly stop staring at me? I find it vastly irritating." He said, flipping a page over.
"I can't. I have to watch. There is nothing else to do. Clearly you are bad at entertaining guests."
"I never said I wanted to. As I recall, you wanted to entertain me or rather get to know me. I find it a useless task on your behalf." He said without a hint of regret.
"Why is that so?"
"I will not let you invade my personal life just because you think you can change me by showing how much you care. Nor will I let anyone else for that matter. I plan to keep it that way..."
"I find you interesting."
"Truly, you shouldn‘t say things like that, it won‘t do you any good.” He continued to read.
"You'd fit nicely into society, you know." She stood and began to observe the paintings that hung upon the wall. "You are very out-spoken for a shy man. Wouldn't you think, John?"
"It's Lord Manarte. And just how much would I most likely fit into society?"
"Perfectly..."
"Hmmm."
"...I love these paintings of you. Who had taken the time to paint your portrait?" Violet said her attention upon the painting of him. In the painting, he was dressed in a nice black attire and he seemed to be looking towards the door, and past that door were many people at a ball. Now she knew what it portrayed. "Isn't this the time you were forced to attend the ball?"
"Yes. Why?"
"You look distressed here." she said, following the painting after it. “Then, here, you look, somewhat, surprised...”
John stopped. “Now don't get too attached, but if you can't take your bloody eyes off of it, then by all means, take it for yours."
"Really?!" She exclaimed, "Thank you so very much."
John tried to smile and flipped a page. Violet took down the painting and placed it against the wall. She turned to him and found he was still deep in his reading.
"What are you reading?"
"Must you know?"
"I am curious. Hmmm." She said as she admired the painting. “I shall call this painting..."
"It already has a name. It's called, "Love At First Sight." "
"What does that suppose to mean?"
"It’s supposed to mean, when will you stop prying into my life?”
"As soon as I know everything about you." John stood up and took off his spectacles.
"If you continue to do so...I will be forced to place a restraining order on you. You wouldn't like that now would you?"
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Shows how much you don't know me." He motioned toward the door, "Come Miss Williams, I believe are refreshments are ready."
Violet took her painting with her and followed him. They had said a few words to each other as she tried the hot chocolate and chocolate bricks. She had to admit, it was the most delicious treat she had ever tasted. John on the other hand, was quiet and was eager to send her away. Violet, on the other hand, was growing quite fond of him, but of course John wouldn’t care and that was just something Violet would have to understand.
But- John Manley is a good character, and I'm pretty sure your readers will like him a lot. He's bitter on the outside, but we know there's more to him than that.
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