The Call of The Sea

George: 28th May

This morning I found myself going on a visit that I had not expected to make during my time in London. My dear friend James, an old comrade from my younger days, and his beautiful wife Caterina. I had not seen them in years, and so a visit was well overdue.

In truth, a visit to their home was merely a distraction. I longed to go back to the square where I had bid Emilie goodbye last evening and whisk her away once more so that we can finish what we have started. I write that as if I know what I mean by it.

Upon arrival at James's townhouse, I was informed that he was not at home. A typical response of a London butler when receiving my card and analysing my appearance. My friendship with James had come about due to my travels in Spain, yet no one could perceive such as I could have crossed paths with such as James. I encouraged the fellow to show the card to his master before turning me away, and the staid man did as I bid him.

Reappearing some moments later, the butler ushered me through to James's private study. I remembered the house as if it had been yesterday that I had traversed its halls; the oaken finery and the deep red decadence all swirled into one as I walked into the small snug with the large open fire.

James sat facing the window, his particular preference when writing business correspondences, directing me to a chair with a careless wave of his bronzed hand. Like me, James had spent much time abroad, and his dark skin and eyes almost matched the deep brown of his hair.

For a few moments, we sat in silence, as James finished his letter. Once he had finished, the atmosphere morphed completely; he sprang from his chair, the essence of the energetic young man I recalled from my youth and took me in his arms. A few inches smaller than me, he was broad from many years of rugby and boxing, yet still managed to look every inch the English gentleman.

"My dear George! We did not expect you! How long have you been in London, my good fellow? It must be three and a half years since I saw you last. Before the new butler came."

I laughed coolly as I took a seat by the fire. "Yes, I had a less than warm reception from him."

James joined me. "I'm awfully sorry. He is used to me receiving the gentry and aristocracy. I'm rather certain you're above his brief."

I smiled. "I suppose I am. How is your new wife, dearest Caterina? Completely settled into her new home by now I would imagine."

"In a way... she struggles I believe. She feels as if she is completely isolated here." James looked down at the hands in his lap.

I leaned forward, knowing he was being evasive. "Surely your children bring cheer to her. I am excited to meet them."

James's face was grave, and he turned his head to look out of the window. "There are no children, George."

Shocked, as I knew the passion James had had for his new wife when they had first met, I pondered the matter. "She is cold towards you?"

"She didn't used to be." The response was curt and vague.

"Yet there are no children." Suddenly considering the possibility, I said quietly, "There will never be?"

"I do not know. Caterina refuses to see the doctor. I have been, and he says there is nothing amiss." James turned to me with a meaningful look in his eyes.

"Well, you must keep trying. When they come, everything will be better. Don't lose hope." I leaned forward, rubbing James' arm gently.

"But don't you see, George?" James' eyes turned desperate. "I can't give her children. That was all she wanted when she married me. If they never come, what will become of us?"