London

She was late. According to his pocket watch, by 30 minutes. Not that he had any definite plans of what to do when she arrived. These past months, they were happy to just spend time together. Nothing in particular – drinking tea while reading the newsies, experimenting with the photography, or strolling down Thames. He loved listening to her playing the piano and singing. She did not have the best voice yet to him it was angelic, regardless what his daughter said about it. Today will be one of these days. He was looking forward to it. When they were together, there seemed to be only the two of them in the entire universe. Alas, they only had a few short hours on Wednesdays.

Lord, how much he missed her soft breaths when she lightly kissed the back of his neck, her fingers on his face when she touched his sideburns, those dark brown eyes as he looked into them during love making, her smile…

Their love was private. The twins and the household servants were the few who knew of it. The girls were split; one was excited, the other one felt betrayed – how could her father do it to her – love her classmate.

He wished so much to fully share his life with her – show her his gallery filled with items he collected during his travels, introduce her to his friends at their houses on Piccadilly, go to the evening performances at the theater. Alas, it was not to be. At least not yet.

Oh how he detested London’s establishment with its Victorian sensibilities. He felt completely powerless against it. As a shipping magnate, he controlled an empire that spanned the globe, from Calcutta to San Francisco. In his hands he held the fate of thousands around the world. Yet, he could not take the woman he loved into the society. A middle aged widower, as rich and as influential as he was, cannot marry a twenty something year old daughter of an accountant and expect her be accepted by the norms. The scandal would destroy her family as well as the standing of his daughters. As a lover, yes, but not as a wife. How he raged against it, against the stupidity and close-mindedness of many of its members. Yet, he could not break free.

He met her at a picnic organized by his daughters. As a man who was used to the machinations of others, he came on his own, in a simple carriage, away from the crowds. He felt no need to show who he was and he let his daughters run the show.

While walking through the park, he noticed a young woman sitting by the riverbank, holding a white parasol, and throwing pebbles into the river. There was something about her that startled him. Something in her eye that he could not define pulled him to her, something disarming yet completely familiar. She was beautiful, slender, and very, very pale…

They talked for hours, forgetting all else. They talked as if they knew each other their entire lives, completely at ease, no age or status differences, simply a man and a woman who only thought of the other. To live in that moment again, he’d give everything he had.

He was pulled out of the reverie by the voice of his manservant at the door – “Master Andrew, Miss Annie has arrived.”
His Annie has arrived.