Everett Ogden of Warwick had made a promise.
He could not recall speaking this oath aloud to the Short Mad Englishwoman who so often plagued the corner of his thoughts dedicated to worry. A thousand times, though, he had reminded himself of it. He was fond of Erin, and he sensed that she was greatly fond of him. Despite the complete innocence of the situation, this could not go on. Not unless Everett came to know the elusive Sebastian.
Really, it was a matter of propriety.
It took some days for him to follow through on this resolution, and his prodding of Erin had brought little of use to light. How does one man court another's favor? The situation seemed, at best, terribly awkward. What, was he to walk up to the Manor where they lived, present himself at the door, and declare:
Sebastian, good afternoon! I adore Erin but sense that it is wildly inappropriate that I be her friend and confidante when I do not know you at all, so I mean to know you, that my friendship with your wife might continue. Please?
A little awkward, actually, but not a terrible start. When he realized it, he sat at the modest writing desk in the corner of his room, penning a note. His script was elegant and flawless, open loops and straight careful lines that well reflected the open-book of the man that penned it.
Sebastian,
I hope you do not find it too forward that I call you by name, or that I send this at all. It is with a hopeful heart that I make this overture, for we share a common interest. I consider your sweet wife, Erin, to be very dear. She has been friend to me, and for that, I am inexpressably grateful. I cannot, however, continue to spend such time in her good company without coming to know her husband. It is not just a matter of propriety but of plain sense, to my mind. I should very much hate to lose her kind regard because I erred in not seeking yours. In the spirit of this friendship which I hope to forge between us, please accept the enclosed. I should very much like to invite you to join me, at your leisure, for a meal or a drink, that we may become better acquainted. I can be found at the library during a working man's hours, or at my room at the Red Dragon Inn, number twenty.
I thank you for your time and wish you well, sir.
-Everett Ogden
The letter was sent to Isis Manor with a bottle of fine scotch, the only thing that he knew the man drank. The only thing left to do was wait. There was a good feeling, a nobility, to putting his money where his mouth was. Everett Ogden had made the first move. He could only hope it would be received in the honest fashion of its intent.
He could not recall speaking this oath aloud to the Short Mad Englishwoman who so often plagued the corner of his thoughts dedicated to worry. A thousand times, though, he had reminded himself of it. He was fond of Erin, and he sensed that she was greatly fond of him. Despite the complete innocence of the situation, this could not go on. Not unless Everett came to know the elusive Sebastian.
Really, it was a matter of propriety.
It took some days for him to follow through on this resolution, and his prodding of Erin had brought little of use to light. How does one man court another's favor? The situation seemed, at best, terribly awkward. What, was he to walk up to the Manor where they lived, present himself at the door, and declare:
Sebastian, good afternoon! I adore Erin but sense that it is wildly inappropriate that I be her friend and confidante when I do not know you at all, so I mean to know you, that my friendship with your wife might continue. Please?
A little awkward, actually, but not a terrible start. When he realized it, he sat at the modest writing desk in the corner of his room, penning a note. His script was elegant and flawless, open loops and straight careful lines that well reflected the open-book of the man that penned it.
Sebastian,
I hope you do not find it too forward that I call you by name, or that I send this at all. It is with a hopeful heart that I make this overture, for we share a common interest. I consider your sweet wife, Erin, to be very dear. She has been friend to me, and for that, I am inexpressably grateful. I cannot, however, continue to spend such time in her good company without coming to know her husband. It is not just a matter of propriety but of plain sense, to my mind. I should very much hate to lose her kind regard because I erred in not seeking yours. In the spirit of this friendship which I hope to forge between us, please accept the enclosed. I should very much like to invite you to join me, at your leisure, for a meal or a drink, that we may become better acquainted. I can be found at the library during a working man's hours, or at my room at the Red Dragon Inn, number twenty.
I thank you for your time and wish you well, sir.
-Everett Ogden
The letter was sent to Isis Manor with a bottle of fine scotch, the only thing that he knew the man drank. The only thing left to do was wait. There was a good feeling, a nobility, to putting his money where his mouth was. Everett Ogden had made the first move. He could only hope it would be received in the honest fashion of its intent.