Of Milkshakes & Mythology

[the_shrubbery]

Part 3 of the #lindorabble series with what happened on Kitty's date.

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Her heart was still beating a little faster, but at least, she thought, she now had her breathing under control again. The walk to the bakery had probably helped a little and the large coconut milkshake she now had in front of her had helped some more. Taking a small sip – she still did not trust herself with larger quantities of liquid in her mouth – Kitty frantically unlocked the screen of her phone once more. What if Lord Ashbourne had sent her a message and her phone had been temporarily without reception and she had not got it?

The phone refused to tell her she had new messages. She thought back again to their brief phone call – and hyperventilated a little again at the thought that she had actually spoken on the phone to Lord Ashbourne! - and tried to remember whether she had given him the correct phone number. What if she had mixed up some digits and he had been sending text messages to some complete stranger? She took a deep breath. It did not matter. Should he find himself unable to reach her on her own phone, he would still be able to call her on his phone, which lay on the table in front of her. She did not know how to unlock it, so she could not check it for text messages, but surely he would know not to send her messages, but just call?

She told herself not to be stupid. He had said he would call her again when he was less busy. It would probably not be tonight. He had more important things to do than to meet her, probably. He surely had a replacement phone lined up somewhere. Maybe she would never hear from him again. Maybe he would just give her the address of a PO box where she could mail the phone.

‘You must be the young lady who appropriated my phone,’ a voice said.

Kitty looked up.

‘Lord Ashbourne -’ she gasped.

She had wanted to say she had appropriated nothing, but upon seeing him in person she found her brain completely incapable of forming sentences. It was hard to believe he had just done a twelve-hour shift of – whatever it was that the head of security for a prince’s birth was supposed to do. He looked just as immaculate as he had looked in the morning when he had almost knocked her down to the ground of Paddington Station. She now noticed he was staring at her intently. She tried to remember if she had brushed her hair some time in the recent past but she could not remember.

‘How did you know I was here?’ she finally managed to say.

‘Oh, I had a bit of help from the NSA,’ he said, shrugging.

She could feel her eyes widen and realised she was still gaping at him. After what felt like an eternity, the corners of his mouth moved upwards and his face broke into a wide grin.

‘You’re as gullible as my cousin,’ he said and indicated the phone she was still holding. ‘You tweeted about it.’

Kitty could feel the blush creeping into her cheeks.

‘Oh,’ she said.

Whether it was because he noticed her embarrassment and wanted to smooth things over, or, because he did not realise she was still not able to say anything meaningful, she did not know, but he dropped the topic and instead gave her milkshake an appraisal.

‘That looks good,’ he said.

‘It is,’ Kitty said, gripping the glass like a lifeline. ‘You – you’d have to ask for the paparazzi special, it’s not on the menu.’

‘You know what,’ he said and grinned. ‘I think I will.’

Kitty watched him walk up to the counter and order with Fran and asked herself if anyone would notice if she quickly pinched herself underneath the table. Before she had made a final decision on the question, he had come back and set his milkshake down on the table.

‘May I?’ he said and gestured at the free seat opposite her.

‘Of course,’ Kitty answered and nodded, just in case the words did not have the meaning she recalled.

She expected he would now try his milkshake, then finish it and ask for the phone that was still lying in front of her, but instead, he kept staring at her.

‘You have the eyes of Helen of Troy,’ he said almost absent-mindedly, contemplating his glass.

Kitty was not sure what one was supposed to say to that. Especially when going out with Lydia, she had had her fair share of weird lines from weirder men, but the casual, disinterested way in which Lord Ashbourne had uttered it made her doubt that he was trying to hit on her. Dimly, she recalled that he had done something to do with the Classics at Oxford, and if she remembered the article correctly, Greek had been involved somewhere as well. Maybe this was his usual way of talking, which was more the pity because he had seemed so sane and in control of things when they'd spoken on the phone and when he’d ordered his milkshake. He was still staring at her and Kitty guessed she was expected to say something, probably about the phone, which was why they were here in the first place. She would show him she was not flustered by his weird ways, then hand him the phone and be on her way -

‘You have the nose of a Spartan king,’ she heard herself say before she had finished thinking about what to say.

She had not expected him to laugh at that, but he did, and not even in a way that could be interpreted as him making fun of her.

‘Don’t,’ he panted, ‘ever let my brothers hear that.’

‘You have brothers?’ Kitty asked.

She probably should not be so surprised at that, but she had been skimming the uninteresting sections in the wikipedia article, concentrating instead on any potential clues about whether he was still single.

‘Two,’ he said, ‘and a sister, which may be worse than all the brothers in the world. Well, probably not, considering Freddy, but still -’

‘I would have liked to have brothers,’ Kitty said. ‘I only have a twin sister who steals all my clothes.’

‘Then you know the trouble with sisters,’ Lord Ashbourne said. ‘Although I can’t say that Annabelle ever stole my clothes – hang on, though, there was the case of my favourite sweater that went missing. I always suspected Freddy but it would explain so much, and if, as you say, sisters are predisposed to steal things – well, I guess I owe Freddy an apology, and his Arsenal jersey back. Although, if you had ever seen Freddy in that thing, you would agree with me that what I did was probably for the best and -’

Kitty had to giggle in spite of the situation still feeling completely surreal.

‘You are perfectly absurd,’ she said.

‘I try to practice daily,’ Lord Ashbourne said, stirring his milkshake with his straw.

‘Aren’t you going to drink that?’ Kitty asked. ‘It’s probably getting all warm.’

Lord Ashbourne looked at the glass as if he saw it for the first time.

‘Right, yes,’ he said. ‘I could do that.’

He pulled the glass towards him and mustered the straw.

‘Why is it called the paparazzi special?’ he asked. ‘Is there a story?’

Kitty blushed, but she had known he would find out eventually what she did for a living.

‘Well, you see, with the hospital so near by,’ she said, ‘quite a few of us started coming in for coffee, and lunch, and when it got so hot, they started asking Fran for something with ice-cream, so she started making iced coffees and milkshakes with whatever she had at hand, and this proved to be the most popular, so -’

‘You’re a journalist?’ Lord Ashbourne interjected, putting down his straw.

‘Not as such,’ Kitty explained. ‘I wasn’t with the day crowd, really. I had to wait here at nights for something to happen, so I could call the office.’

She shrugged.

‘Three weeks, and all they let me do was write one twitter update when Lizzy got stuck in the tube and had no reception,’ she said, wondering if she should show him her update or if he’d not see it as an achievement.

‘So you’re a journalist?’ Lord Ashbourne repeated. ‘You were a journalist when I told you earlier on that something was about to happen?’

‘Well, yes, of course,’ Kitty said. It was such a shame; she had had such high hopes for him but it appeared now that the Greek allusions were not a fluke. The man was clearly out of his mind.

‘But you didn’t tell anyone about it?’ Lord Ashbourne insisted. ‘That something was about to happen?’

‘No,’ Kitty said, irritated. Maybe she should pity him, she thought. It was obvious he had difficulties understanding what she said. She had the feeling he was staring at her for a full minute before he spoke again.

‘But why?’

‘You told me I wasn’t meant to know,’ Kitty said, wondering if she should speak slowly. ‘I figured that meant it was a secret. Was it not?’

Inwardly, she could feel herself shaking her head. There she was, having milkshakes with Lord Ashbourne, which was clearly every girl’s dream, and it had started promising enough, surely, and now it seemed that one of them must clearly be speaking Greek to the other. And the man had still not even tried his milkshake, which was an insult to Fran if nothing else.

‘You really should drink that before the ice is all molten,’ she said.

It seemed to her that Lord Ashbourne had forgotten again that he had a glass of milkshake standing in front of him.

‘Right,’ he now said, picking up the straw again. ‘Yes.’

Kitty had to give him that, he might be out of his mind, but he had nice hands. Such a shame about the rest, really.

He put the straw in his mouth and gingerly took a sip.

‘It’s good,’ he said. ‘What’s in it?’

‘Eh – coconut, I think,’ Kitty said, momentarily distracted by his lips. ‘And, eh -’

‘Banana?’ Lord Ashbourne croaked and fell to the floor.

*~*

It was a good thing the hospital was so close. Kitty hardly had time to think before paramedics had arrived on the scene, stuck needles into Lord Ashbourne and loaded him into an ambulance. Kitty was not quite certain why she was whisked away with him until she looked down and realised that through it all, Lord Ashbourne had been clamping her hand tightly and was refusing to let go.

‘Stay with me, Helen,’ he wheezed as the ambulance rattled around the street corners towards A&E.

It appeared that people in the hospital knew Lord Ashbourne, not from his duty, but from a minor allergy scare only a week ago. Before long, more needles were stuck into him, IVs were hung up and a middle-aged nurse patted Kitty’s hand, told her to sit tight and that she would call his family. Kitty felt entirely useless as she sat there, holding Lord Ashbourne’s hand and watching his face slowly return to a more healthy colour. Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open.

‘You saved my life, Helen,’ he whispered and fixed his bloodshot eyes onto her.

‘Hardly,’ Kitty said. ‘I only called the ambulance; it was Fran who rammed that epipen from your bag into you.’

‘Thank you anyway,’ Lord Ashbourne muttered and closed his eyes again, but showed no signs of releasing her hand. The sight was pitiable.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Kitty said. ‘About everything – it was my idea, after all, and I kept urging you to drink that thing, honestly, I had no idea and I’m so sorry -’

‘Not your fault,’ Lord Ashbourne muttered without opening his eyes again. ‘Shouldn’t have tried to impress you with my insouciance.’

‘You’re barely conscious and you go for four syllables?’

‘Family habit,’ Lord Ashbourne croaked. ‘Hard to shed when you’re in a weakened state of being.’

He pressed her hand slightly.

‘ ‘m really grateful you’re staying, Helen,’ he mumbled.

Kitty could not say how long she was sitting there, just holding his hand and observing him while the drugs did their work. The nurse came by again, checked his blood pressure and the IV, and told Kitty she’d reached Lord Ashbourne’s brother, who’d said he and his sister would be along shortly.

‘Uhm, Lord Ashbourne?’ Kitty said when the nurse had left again. ‘It’s sort of getting late, and your family will be here soon, so I wondered if I should better -’

His eyes opened again.

‘My friends call me Ash, you know,’ he said.

‘Nobody calls you by your first name?’ Kitty blurted out.

‘Not if I can prevent it,’ Lord Ashbourne said.

Kitty’s eyes fell onto the chart the nurse had forgot on his nightstand and she had to giggle in spite of the situation.

‘I had no idea it was true,’ she said. ‘I thought that was a hoax.’

‘I blame my mother’s faulty epidural and a boyhood crush on Nelson,’ Lord Ashbourne croaked.

‘And I thought someone had hacked your wikipedia entry -’

‘That, actually, is a brilliant idea,’ a voice came from behind Kitty. ‘Make sure to make a note of it, Richard.’

Kitty turned around and saw a woman with such a resemblance to Ash she could only be his sister enter the room, followed by his brother.

‘I hope we’re not interrupting anything,’ the man said, ‘but they told us you had done it yet again.’

‘I forgot to ask what was in the shake,’ Ash croaked. ‘I was so enraptured by Helen of Troy.’

Kitty realised everyone in the room was staring at her and she felt the blush creeping into her cheeks.

‘Actually,’ she said, ‘my name is Kitty.’

*~*

Radio Surrey FM (@RadioSurrey): #lordashbourne brings mystery date to charity polo match! Find out more in fifteen with @thegloriousaugusta

Lydia Benton (@lydiapartyqueen): @KittyCat OMG pick up your phone immediately

Lydia Benton (@lydiapartyqueen): @KittyCat We need to talk

Emma Woodhouse (@AskMissWoodhouse): @GKnightley Do we really need Augusta gossiping about everything?

Lydia Benton (@lydiapartyqueen): @KittyCat NOW.

Emma Woodhouse (@AskMissWoodhouse): @GKnightley So #lordashbourne has a date. Who even cares?

Lydia Benton (@lydiapartyqueen): @KittyCat I saw you on tv.

Lydia Benton (@lydiapartyqueen): @KittyCat don’t think you can hide from me forever. I *will* find out.

George Knightley (@GKnightley): @AskMissWoodhouse You’re still in denial because you did not see it coming.

Emma Woodhouse (@AskMissWoodhouse): @GKnightley I hardly even know Kitty, how could I see it?

Emma Woodhouse (@AskMissWoodhouse): @GKnightley and Anne was keeping information from me, there was no way I could find out about that.

Annabelle Carlon (@crazycatlady): @KittyCat so looking forward to dinner with your friends tonight! It’s going to be so much fun!

Kitty Benton (@KittyCat): @crazycatlady hold your horses. I had to invite my sister!

George Knightley (@GKnightley): @AskMissWoodhouse just admit it, you’ve lost your touch.

Emma Woodhouse (@AskMissWoodhouse): @GKnightley well you know what they say about those who’re unlucky at cards.

Lydia Benton (@lydiapartyqueen): PAR-TAY BABY!

Annabelle Carlon (@crazycatlady): @KittyCat I’m sure she and I will get along splendidly.

F. William Darcy (@thebarracuda): @LizzyBee hurry up, we’re going to be late for @KittyCat’s party!

Lizzy Bennet (@LizzyBee): @thebarracuda I’m in the next room getting dressed and you tweet me??

Lizzy Bennet (@LizzyBee): Why did I ever explain twitter to him?

Lucy Steele (@juicylucy): Find out who #lordashbourne’s mystery girlfriend really is! Stay tuned!

Lydia Benton (@lydiapartyqueen): Partying with my sis and #lordashbourne! So much fun!!

Caroline Bingley (@CarolineB.): Awesome party! Awesome restaurant! Awesome #lindorabble!

Lizzy Bennet (@LizzyBee): So much fun meeting the old #lindorabble again!

Lucy Steele (@juicylucy): Is she #lordashbourne’s girlfriend … or someone else entirely?

Lucy Steele (@juicylucy): Is #lordashbourne only covering for … a family friend, if you get my drift?

Lucy Stelle (@juicylucy): Stay tuned as I find out more!

Lizzy Bennet (@LizzyBee): I don’t think I ever saw @ACElliot look so radiant as with @CaptainFred.

Lizzy Bennet (@LizzyBee): #lindorabble I’m going to miss you all so much!

Henry Tilney (@whatahenry): @LizzyBee who said anything that this was goodbye? This is only the beginning of – oh, you know what I mean.

H. Fitzwilliam (@AshFitz): Helen, I would launch a million ships for you.

Kitty Benton (@KittyCat): @crazycatlady I think your brother is drunk. I’m getting a taxi!

Kitty Benton (@KittyCat): Good Night, everyone! It was a glorious party! Thank you so much for coming!

Caroline Bingley (@CarolineB.): @KittyCat just introduced me to #lordashbourne’s brother. Oh, darlings, so much potential ...