Ring of Stone

A Novella by Bronwen Welsh

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Part Seven - The Perfect Woman

The following day, Saturday, I rang Aunt Mary, told her I was back in Oxford and was reminded to visit her for afternoon tea again as arranged. At three o'clock I rang her doorbell and was greeted again with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I was ushered into the same room as before and managed to keep my patience in check as Aunt Mary served tea.

“My, you have matured,” she remarked, “But I can see you are bursting to know what I thought of your friend's letter.”

I smiled “Was my impatience that obvious?”

Aunt Mary laughed.

“Well I confess it did seem like a work of fiction at first, although several questions came to mind; if Leonard wanted to disappear, why go to the trouble of making up such an elaborate story? Also, how did he know about Leonora and her marriage to Richard unless he knew he was a distant relative of yours of course, but why would he never mention that? I suppose the clincher was the portrait which of course he had never seen. As you suggested, I went back to look at it and I immediately picked up on the significance of the drawing of Castlerigg in the background as you knew I would.”

“So you believe it's true then?”

“Well it's hard to come to any other conclusion even though logic tells us it's impossible. But then I'm reminded of that quote from Hamlet “There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” How about you, what do you think of it?”

“Yes Aunty, I do believe it. It has something to do with the stone circle, and I believe that somehow, and I don't know how, Leonard went back in time and became Leonora my ancestor. I believe it was what she wanted and I believe she lived a happy life although I visited her grave and realised that she lost her first-born son.”

“Yes I'm sorry my boy, I forgot to point that out to you. So many young children died in those days, but Richard was the only one she lost. It must have been very hard though.”

“Oh yes, and another thing, Richard was made a knight like his father, something else I didn't know.”

“He would have been a Knight Bachelor as they are called, probably due to his legal career. He became a judge you know.”

“No, I didn't know that, it's yet another piece of the jigsaw. I do so wish her journal had survived”

I took a deep breath. “There's one more thing, and this must remain strictly between the two of us, Aunty. You must never tell anyone or they will want to lock me up. While I was at her graveside I felt compelled to go to Castlerigg at dawn. I went there yesterday morning and I saw her, I really did Aunt Mary. She was sitting on one of the stones sketching, and then the rising sun blinded me and when I looked again she was gone.”

Aunt Mary took both my hands in hers as she looked deep into my eyes. “I believe you Jack,” she said, “but you are right, neither you nor I must ever reveal that. It will be our secret.”

We sat in silence for a while pondering the significance of my vision, and then the doorbell rang.

“Would you get that for me please?” said Aunty Mary, stirring as if from sleep.

“Of course,” I replied, glad of a distraction from the thoughts that swirled around my mind, and walked down the hallway to open the front door. What I saw took my breath away. A young woman stood there. She had dark shining hair that fell in curves around the perfect oval of her face. Her eyes were a sparkling green and her full lips were curved in a half smile. She wore a light summer dress that curved around her full breasts and down to a tiny waist from whence it flared out in soft folds. Call me old fashioned, even sexist if you like but in today's society where ninety-five percent of women you see in the street are wearing trousers or jeans, I find it a rare pleasure to see a woman wearing a dress, especially a woman as delightfully feminine as this one. Her smile broadened and I realised that I was staring.

“Is Miss d'Anglais in?” she inquired.

“Err yes, she is. I'm Jack her nephew, well great-nephew actually, I'm up visiting her from London, oh and please come in.” I realised that I was babbling and suspected this ravishing creature had the same effect on every man she met.

“I'm Fiona, a friend of hers from the Book Club. I've brought along this month's books for her to read.” I realised that she was holding several volumes as I stepped aside for her to enter the house and then followed her down the hallway.

“Fiona my dear! I'd forgotten you were due here with the books today,” said Aunty Mary as we entered the room. I looked at her suspiciously. A mind as sharp as my aunt's never forgot a thing, but the look on her face was inscrutable.

“You've met my nephew Jack then? He's up from London and picking my brains on family history.”

Fiona smiled at me again and I remembered what Leonora had written about 'instant chemistry'. I have had many girlfriends, even lovers in my time, but never had a young woman affected me the way Fiona was doing right now. Suddenly it became very important to me that she should feel the same way, and for the first time in many years I felt shy in the presence of a woman. I had absolutely no doubt that Aunt Mary had set up this meeting, but far from being annoyed with her I just wanted to thank her.

It turned out that Fiona was an English teacher in an Oxford school, and of course I had to admit that I was a Physical Education teacher, so here was something in common, both teachers. Aunt Mary made some more tea and we hardly noticed her leaving the room, so engrossed were we with each other's company. I knew I had to ask her out, but how was I to do that in Aunt Mary's presence? As it turned out, Mother Nature provided the solution. We hadn't noticed the sky getting darker outside until a clap of thunder made us all jump. Torrential rain followed, and didn't look like easing up.

“Oh dear, and I rode up here on my bicycle,” said Fiona. “I'll have to get a taxi to take me home.”

“Nonsense!” said Aunt Mary, “Jack can take you. He's got one of those big 'people mover' cars.”

“It's useful for transporting the boys and equipment when we play sport against other schools,” I explained “But yes I'd be happy to take you, and there's plenty of room in the back for your bicycle.”

We borrowed an umbrella from Aunt Mary so that I could escort Fiona to my car. This of course involved her taking my arm, an added delight as I inhaled the subtle perfume she was wearing. Then I returned for her bicycle which she had left leaning against the side wall of the house. During the drive to Fiona's flat we suddenly fell silent in contrast to the way we had been chatting in the house. For my part I was trying to pick the perfect time to ask her out, and decided I would wait until we reached her home in case my invitation was declined, which would have been awkward for both of us. It was a new experience for me to feel nervous in the company of a woman, but of course that was because never before had a positive response to an invitation been so important.

Fiona's flat was on the fringes of Oxford proper and we were there in about ten minutes by which time the rain had stopped. I opened the door and helped her alight and then fetched her bicycle from the back of the wagon. We walked to her door and it was now or never.

“Fiona,” I said “I've really enjoyed our meeting today and I would like to invite you to dinner if you have a free evening. Even though I live in London, it's not far too travel up to Oxford.”

Fiona smiled “Thank you Jack, I would really like that, but I would hate to drag you all the way from London. Are you staying much longer in Oxford?”

“Well I'm on holiday of course, so I might stick around for a couple more days and see some of the sights.”

“In that case, would you like to make it Monday evening, or is that too soon?”

“Oh no, that would be perfect!” I knew I was beaming with pleasure. Anything this delightful young woman suggested would be perfect. So it was arranged that I would pick her up at seven o'clock on Monday.

I spent Sunday walking around the old town, looking at some of the colleges, while my mind was filled with visions of Fiona. On Monday morning I was up early. It would be a busy day. First of all I needed a suit. I only had one and I hadn't brought it with me of course, not expecting any need for it. The hotel recommended a tailor who stocked a good supply of ready-made suits and fortunately he had several for me to choose from in my size. I completed my ensemble with a new shirt, tie and cufflinks. When I explained to the tailor my mission for the evening and asked his advice on a choice of restaurant he recommended Brasserie Blanc, one of a chain of restaurants run by Raymond Blanc who I was given to understand was quite a famous French chef. I rang immediately and was fortunate in securing a table for two thanks to a cancellation. My next errand was to buy a new pair of shoes, and then to have a hair cut. Finally I purchased a bouquet of flowers and felt I had done as much as I reasonably could to make a good impression. I had a light lunch and returned to the hotel with my purchases in order to have a brief siesta and then get ready for the evening.

I rang Fiona's doorbell promptly at seven o'clock. If her appearance at my aunt's door had stunned me, my reaction to her appearance now was perhaps more in the 'thunderstruck' category. She was wearing a beautiful lime green silk dress with matching high heels. Her hair was styled in what I now understand to be a French Roll. I am no expert on women's make-up but I'm sure it discretely accentuated her beauty.

For a moment I was stunned into silence before finally coming out with “Fiona, you look absolutely fabulous.” Perhaps it wasn't the most original line but it seemed to go down well.

“Why thank you, kind sir,” she replied with a little curtsey, “And you look very handsome I must say.”

It seemed my decision to purchase a new suit was justified! Then I remembered to offer the
bouquet of flowers.

“Thank you so much — they're beautiful. Please come in while I put them in a vase.”

I followed her into her small one-bedroom apartment and stood waiting while she found a vase and placed the flowers in it.

“That will do for now,” she said “I'll arrange them properly later. If you've booked a table we don't want to be late.”

“Yes, I have booked a table at Brasserie Blanc at seven thirty. I hear it's very good.”

“I'm sure we'll have a lovely time,” she replied.

'I could be eating fish and chips with this girl and still have a fabulous time,' I thought to myself.

In fact the food was marvelous and I felt almost guilty that we didn't pay it as much respect and attention as we should have since we were so engrossed in each other's company. The only thing the restaurant lacked was a band and dance floor, but we made do with holding hands over the table.

The evening seemed to be over very quickly, and all too soon I was driving Fiona back to her flat and walking her to the door. I expected a short 'good night' kiss but was unprepared for the intensity and enthusiasm with which she kissed me. Of course I had the inevitable reaction of a healthy male but that didn't seem to bother her, quite the reverse as she pressed her body close to mine, and when she unlocked the door she kept hold of my hand and drew me inside, leading me straight to her bedroom. I helped her carefully remove her dress which she laid over a chair, and the temperature rose considerably seeing her in her black lingerie as she helped me off with my clothes. When we both fell on the bed naked our bodies were more than ready to join together in an ecstasy of passion.

Later, as we lay on the bed waiting for our breathing and heart-rates to return to normal, Fiona turned to me and said half-seriously “You must think me a total wanton taking you to bed on our first date. I can assure you that has never happened before.”

I smiled as I lightly caressed her curves with my fingers. “All I can think about is that I love you, Fiona.” There! It was said, and for a moment my heart skipped a beat in case it was said too soon.

Fiona smiled “Thank goodness for that. I love you too Jack. I knew it from the first moment we met.”

“Even though I was babbling and making a complete fool of myself?”

She smiled at that but said nothing, proving not for the first time how much wiser women are than men.

Much later she said “You know, one thing was puzzling me when I arrived with your Aunt Mary's books on Saturday. She originally said it was alright to bring them Monday, and then called to say she'd changed her mind and could I bring them Saturday afternoon instead. The moment you opened the door I realised what she was up to. She has mentioned you briefly in the past, but she didn't tell me how handsome you are. Then of course she confirmed my suspicions by saying she'd forgotten I was coming. I didn't believe it for a moment!”

“Neither did I,” I said “We were set up. You know that don't you?”

She laughed. “Well I don't mind, do you?”

“Not at all,” I replied, and leaned over to kiss her.

Next time: A New Generation (Final)