Free A Different Reflection by Jane L Gibson Page B

the leaping flames, George returned with plates in hand. He placed my plate down first and then his own before sitting. I lifted my glass: “A toast I think; to new and interesting friends, who are delightful company!” I spoke with sincerity. By all accounts, I would rather sit and talk to George over dinner than many of John’s work colleagues and friends.
    â€œIndeed. New and interesting and beautiful new friends!” he then replied as we held up our glasses, chinked them just once and took a sip.
    â€œThis looks really good, George!” I then stated as I looked at the dinner in front of me.
    â€œWell, it was not just my fair hands that made what we are about to eat!”
    â€œShall we?” I asked, realising how hungry I now was.
    Dinner was delicious. George had followed it with a chocolate tart that would give Gordon Ramsey a run for his money. By the time we had finished, a few glasses of wine later, I was contently full. I needed to make sure that I did not lose sight of why I was here, although I felt that I could escape here for a long time. “George, I really must ask you about
you
! I still have a story to write and I know less about you than I do about James Aldersely,” I then remarked.
    George sighed and sat back in his chair, took a sip from his glass and then replied, “But to know about me, you have to know everything about James!”
    â€œWell, again you intrigue me! Do you want to tell me about you?” I asked, wondering if he wasn’t willing to divulge anything to me about himself.
    â€œIt’s complicated and, I assure you, hard to believe. Although you may think that I am a story – and of that I can assure you, Katharina – I am not sure how successful it will be for you!”
    â€œCan I be the judge of that?” I asked, hoping that he wasn’t going to now say nothing at all about how he came to be living here.
    â€œYou really want to know?”
    â€œYes I do. I think!”
    â€œCan you be open-minded? More importantly, can you think long and hard before you make a decision as to whether this is a story that has truth? I can tell you it is hard to believe, and I know that I have tried many times before!” George explained as he leaned forward and placed his glass back on the table.
    â€œI like to think that I never judge anything until I have all the facts, and then I can assimilate them into some form of understanding, George!” I confirmed. He smiled, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them and looked toward the large mirror at the end of the table before replying:
    â€œVery well! Just remember that you asked me for the truth!” he stated. I nodded and started to feel a little uneasy; that I may not like what I was about to hear. He refilled our glasses, turned to the fire and then began.
    â€œIt was now 1750, a year that changed everything. James had many acquaintances scattered across the country, and one thing he did like to do was travel. He would ride for days and stay with other single friends, with whom he would embark on nights of passion, drinking and gambling. In March of that year, he took it upon himself to visit a business acquaintance named Henry Cavendish, another handsome young man of only twenty-five years. He lived in a small village called Haworth, in Yorkshire. He had a sizeable estate and the same way of life as that of James, so they seemed well suited. His friend Henry threw a lavish ball, to which he invited many single suitors for both James and himself, but all the while with no intention of any serious connection other than of that sole night. One very beautiful young lady, by the name of Alice Elizabeth Ainsworth, was asked to attend this ball. She was only twenty-two and had the elegance and beauty that could, it was said, stop a man in his tracks.”
    â€œLet me guess; James wanted her immediately?” I quickly interrupted.
    â€œHe made it no secret