'GANS AT SEA cont'd...

by Lucille D'ecoupage

Dickinson and Farthing enjoyed the type of familiarity whereupon bouts of silence are not seen as adversity. There's was a kind of kinship and they stood in the courtyard for a moment, listening to the rise and fall of the rumblings from the crowd inside.

The room served normally as a grand dining hall although for this occasion, the massive dining table and chairs had been cleared away in order to accomodate the great number of guests. At that point in history, the house was over one-hundred years old and had been painstakingly maintained by professional staff of more than two generations. Designed by Robert Adams in 1728, the room itself featured a series of tapestries on all four walls depicting myths of the four elements and had been hand woven in Paris. The ceiling was heavily plastered and ornamented with molding. Columns supported key structural points and were accented in a Corinthian style.

The furniture was more contemporary although obviously selected to accent the sweeping, cathedralesque stature of the room. A few lone peices stood out - primarily a carved cabinet in Mahogany opposite the fireplace. The panels of the cabinet depicted stories of the Inquisition surprisingly detailed in fashion. The floor of the room was Oak and had an inlaid, chequered pattern at the outside. A large patterned carpet had been rolled away for that evening as well and the heels of the guests made clacking and creaking noises which drifted absently over the music of their dance.

Sir Richard spoke as though already in conversation, "I may not sleep this eve, but I shall be right for it in the morning."

"The coach is early," said the Doctor, "I expect little fanfare upon our departure."

"Good. I am not one for ceremony."

"You carry yourself well. You are honest in a crowd."

"It only serves to make the time go quicker."

Dickinson turned and took a sip of wine. He said into his glass, "Put word into practice, here comes your First Lieutenant."