Shortly after she had somehow switched to talking about the festivities of the previous night, he finally decided he had finished eating. Excusing himself from the table, he went to the study, where he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed.
He tried to look over various papers, but his mind was preoccupied with the fact Georgiana would doubtless be attending the majority of the social events of the season. That meant he would probably see her again tonight. With her husband.
Unable to stand the thoughts any longer, he practically bolted from his desk and called for a servant to get a horse saddled for him. Where he planned to go, he had no idea, though the wish that he might ride all the way to France crossed his mind.
Instead, he turned his horse towards town. Though he was wandering aimlessly, he moved with enough speed, everyone he passed assumed he was on an important errand and left him alone, for which he was grateful.
Surprisingly, he found himself on the same street as Huxley’s at around the time he knew his horse needed to go at a slower pace if he had any intention of riding it home. Instead of going there, he decided to take look at the boxing establishment Henry had told him about.
He went inside Jackson’s. One of the first people he saw across the room was Henry, which made him relaxed a little.
“Henry,” he called out as he walked in his direction.
His friend apparently didn’t hear him, being too focused on punching one of the boxing bags for all it was worth. Walter tipped his head to a couple of men he recognized as he passed and called again, “Henry!”
Still getting no reply, Walter walked even closer. When he was within three feet of his friend, he tried again. “Henry!”
With a sudden start, Henry swung round in surprise with a fist flying. Walter was able to quickly step back to dodge the blow, then he chuckled at the reaction he had received.
“What are you doing startling me like that? Doesn’t common sense tell you that in a place like this you don’t just go up behind a man and shout out his name?”
“I tried calling you from further away without effect, believe me,” Walter replied, amused at the rare sight of seeing Henry flustered. “So, may I ask what you were thinking about that consumed so much of your attention? I somehow don’t think all that focus was solely on the bag.”
Henry sighed and motioned for them to take a seat on the edge of one of the rings. “I have been trying to make arrangements for a trip—to the West Indies, this time. But, well … part of the arrangements fell through, and now I may well have to start all over again. Anyway, I guess you could say I was taking my frustrations out on the bag.”
“It certainly looked like that way,” he replied, as he tried to find their usual levity.
Henry must have heard something in his voice, however, and looked searchingly at his friend. “Hm … it seems to me you have something on your mind too, my friend, if I am not mistaken.”
Walter rubbed the back of his neck, wanting to deny it and yet not at the same time. “Perhaps. Just a small nuisance.”
“Ha! A small one? Somehow, I don’t believe it. But you don’t need to say a word. Why don’t you try getting out some of your own frustrations on that bag? Trust me, it’ll help.”
Walter looked incredulous but got up and walked over to stand in front of the bag, where Henry had been moments before. Having literally no idea what he was doing, he tried to recall how Henry had been standing and to imitate it the stance.
“Ah, come now, lad, that must have been the weakest punch that bag has ever felt. Try harder. You aren’t going to hurt it.”
Walter obligingly punched with more force this time, using nearly all his strength. One glance at his friend, however, revealed the latter was far from impressed.
“That’s … better. But you seem to be missing the whole point. Here,” Henry walked over and corrected his stance a little. “Now, try again, but instead of hitting the bag, I want you to think about something else entirely. I want you to picture in your head whatever is bothering you and pretend it is this bag right here, and then take a swing at it.”
Walter took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as he tried to pinpoint what exactly was bothering him. He could never imagine hurting Georgiana, no matter how much she was to blame, but he found picturing Rowley in his mind made him feel inclined to punch something.
Opening his eyes again, he pictured the man standing in front of him instead of the boxing bag. Though it took a little imagination, Walter pictured himself punching Rowley right in the face … and then punching him again.
It was only when he began to feel himself becoming fatigued that he stopped punching the bag, noticing Henry was standing to the side, watching him with a look of extreme amusement on his face.
“I am almost afraid to ask if it was a person or a situation you were pummeling into the dust. If you could do that in a boxing ring, you could consider boxing as a potential profession.”
Walter huffed, surprised to find himself out of breath but feeling moderately better. “Thank you for letting me do that.”
Henry, waving his thanks aside, replied, “No need. Though, if you want to repay me, you could do so by joining me for drinks at Huxley’s.”
“Very well, I could probably use a drink right now,” he replied as they headed out of the establishment.
Since the club was just a little further down the same street, they walked the short distance. A few minutes later, they were seated at a secluded table in the far corner of the club and waiting for their drinks.
“I will get around to going to the East Indies eventually. It is such a lovely place, though the humidity nearly kills you if you go at the wrong time of year. Do you recall when I told you about the time I was—”
Henry stopped himself mid-sentence and saw Walter was far too preoccupied with his own thoughts to hear a word anyone else said. Placing a hand on Walter’s shoulder as their drinks arrived barely seemed to pull him to the present.
Walter put his glass to his mouth only to set it down again, deciding it was pointless to try to contain himself. “May I confide in you about something?”
“Of course,” Henry replied kindly. “Something is clearly bothering you. If punching the problem doesn’t help, then perhaps talking about it will.”
“I hope it will!” he replied almost desperately. “I have tried everything else. Going for a ride, punching a bag, visiting a friend.” He motioned to Henry.
“I am here and listening. What terrible catastrophe has happened to you?”
Walter did not appreciate the attempt at humor but began anyway. “While you were gone, I … I met a girl. Her name was Georgiana. She first caught my attention because she is slightly taller than the other girls, but then I also noticed how bright her nature was, her lovely smile, her…”