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Chapter 14
Tuesday evening was only two nights away, and yet it might as well have been an eternity if you asked Robert. After their passionate night last night, he couldn’t get her off his mind.
The way that she moaned my name ... the way her lips felt against mine ... the way that she looked at me with such earnest excitement, the way ...
There were a million little things that Robert thought about Anne throughout his long, rather boring days to keep himself occupied. Many of his jobs were quite long, tedious, and involved very little enjoyment, and so thinking of Anne was the one bright spot in his day. He knew that he could not do it forever, though; otherwise, he would start to get rather ... uncomfortable, one might say.
The children were also taking a break from their arithmetic lessons with Robert, as they needed to focus on honing their musical talents. George and Eponine had arranged a concert for a few relatives and close friends to attend, and the children were expected to play a few pieces of their choosing. They spent much of the day with Anne rehearsing their arrangements, and it brought Robert a great deal of joy to walk past the classroom and hear the songs they had chosen coming together more and more.
However, as Tuesday morning turned into afternoon, a disturbing memory popped into Robert’s head: George had called for him as Robert when he came looking for him that night, and he’d had to lie to Anne. He could not describe the immense amount of guilt he felt for doing it, but he knew that it had to be done.
If he told her, it would inevitably get out to the children, and then there would be no way to keep it a secret. Children were the worst secret-keepers, and so Robert just had to hope that none of the truth ever reached them before it was time.
When he was pondering all this, he was just about finished his work for the day anyway, so he decided to put off his last few things until tomorrow. He needed to seek out his brother.
Robert initially went to George’s office, but it was vacant. He then went and looked for him out in the garden or the conservatory, as both were popular haunts of his brother’s, but he was not there either. Finally, he went up to his bedroom and knocked softly upon the door.
“Yes?” came George’s voice from the other side of the door. “I do hope that is you, Percival, as I am struggling a great deal with this new ... whatever this neckpiece is that Eponine acquired for me.”
Robert chuckled to himself. “No, it is me; could I come in?” He looked up and down the hall to ensure that no one was there, and when he saw that he was correct, he was very relieved.
“Oh, Robert, of course, enter, enter,” George called.
Robert opened the door just as his brother was turning around. He had to stop himself from laughing out loud at the predicament that George had got himself into, for it was quite comical. His necktie had been knotted in all the wrong places and was now hanging off him like a dead animal. He looked utterly defeated, and so Robert simply walked towards him and began undoing all of his knotted work.
“Thank you,” George said, rather bashfully. “Eponine purchased this for me when she was visiting home a few months ago, and she’s said how disappointed she was that I haven’t worn it yet quite a few times. And of course, now that I am trying to please her and put it on correctly, I fail miserably.”
Robert laughed as he undid the third knot in the tie. “What is this called?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” George said truthfully. “Eponine told me when she gave it to me, but it is a French word that is very hard to say, and I didn’t entirely hear it when she said it the first time, so ... I do not know.”
Robert had just finished untying the last knot and was finally able to hold it up in front of him so that he could have a better look at it. He moved it through his hands, trying to get an idea of which part was supposed to go where, but he met with very little success.
“I’m glad to see that you are as baffled as I am by it,” George said, chuckling at the look on Robert’s face.
“I’d have to say that’s true, I’m afraid, but I will keep working on it.” Robert sat on the edge of the bed and continued working away on his brother’s neckpiece. “In the meantime, I need to speak with you about something.”
“Anything,” George said warmly. He came and sat upon the bed next to his brother. “Does it have to do with your position here? Are you unhappy with it? I must say, you’ve been doing a marvellous job so far.”
“No, no, no complaints whatsoever about my position,” Robert said. “It has to do with my name, actually.”
“Oh,” George said, looking confused. “I take it that you are referring to your pseudonym, ‘Freddie Austen’?”
“Yes,” Robert responded, finally beginning to understand what the garment he was holding in his hands was meant to look like in the end. “When you came into the sitting room the other night …”
“So you were in there!” George said triumphantly. “I thought that you might have been. What were you doing? Something embarrassing?”
Robert could have rolled his eyes. “No, you fool. But you referred to me as ‘Robert’.”
George looked stunned. “I did? I did not realize that. No matter, though, it was so late at night that there was no one around to hear us, so it did not have any ill-effect, did it?”
At that moment, Robert discovered that he could not admit to his brother why he was requesting him to use his alternate name when no one was around. He madly tried to think up something to say.
“No, of course not, but ... I think it is best if we just use my pseudonym at all times,” Robert stammered.
Curse you, nervous speech patterns!
George tilted his head to the side and looked at his brother queerly. “Why would it matter if I still referred to you as Freddie when there was no one around? Are you ‘getting into character’? Do you not feel like the person who you’ve evolved into since you entered this house when I refer to you by your real name? Or was there …”
