Geoffrey walked through one of the Abbey's gardens, enjoying gods creation in the twilight approaching night. He was still in the finery he had worn during the feast, and his walk had helped him clear his head from the wine earlier.

As he strolled, he came upon a portion of the garden given over to flowers, rather than the practical vegetable patches so favored by the monks. And what should he spy amid the lilies and rosebushes but a pair of young maidens chatting amiably amid the finery.

They were two, one fair of hair and somewhat shorter than the other, whose hair was long, lustrous, and black. As he approached, a snippet of conversation:

"Quit dreaming, Nichole, you know father won't agree to that!"

"But it isn't asking much! We never come this direction. It's always Lincoln, and London is to Lincoln what Lincoln is to Norwich. Another magnitude! Why, I hear that there are so many people it is actually warmer inside the walls than outside! How can we miss the opportunity?"

"So many people just means more wickedness. You know what happened to the Earl of Oxford's father don't you?"

"Yeah, a hundred years ago..."

Non one for either dropping eve or let the chance at sharing company with two lovely ladies, Geoffrey approached and greeted the two with a gentlemanly bow that displayed his formal education as well as a strong sense of confidence.

"A lovely evening for the gardens, miladies. I do not mean to be rude, though I must admit to meaning to interrupt." When he rises his eyes meet each of the girls in turn. "Baron Geoffrey of Crahen, house of Tournemine. It is an honor, privilege and pleasure to find serendipity this evening."

The elder girl has just inhaled to respond to Nichole when you approach, and she startles a bit. There is a guardedness to this one. Nichole, however, squints a bit to get a good look at you, then gets to her feet.

Nichole: "Pleased to meet you, Geoffrey of Tournemine. I am Nichole and this is Matilda, we're from Castle Rising."

Matilda: "of the House of Aubigny."

Nichole smirks. "And you turn a fine leg, Tournemine. Do you often enjoy flowers in abbey gardens? I would think you more a courtly man, myself."

Matilda: "Nikki!"

Nichole: "I apologize, Tournemine; my sister is a scold, and determined to embarrass herself."

Geoffrey's posture spoke of a man that understood battle as well as it did the finer things in life. His smile for both girls had a natural charm born from a line of handsome noblemen. But it was his eyes that truly showed a spark. There was an intellect behind them that promised not to disappoint expectations.

"No apologies are necessary." He nods his understanding to Matilda. "I enjoy whatever of gods beauty he chooses to gift me the opportunity to see, whether that be the sun setting on the ocean horizon, immaculately maintained gardens in an abbey, or discovering new and beautiful flowers. I will admit I'd never heard of Matildas or Nicholes before, but from what I can see both would be lovely additions to any garden. Perhaps I might even add them to my own some day."

Matilda's eyes widen significantly, whereas Nichole raises an eyebrow.

Nichole: "A man can dream, Tournemine, but a transplantation is a tricky manuever. We are the gardener's pride and joy."

Matilda: "We?! I am having no part of this."

Nichole ignores her sister, clearly more interested in your response than her semantic protestations.

"I suppose I would just need to convince the gardener that I keep my garden in pristine order. Show him that any flower he might choose to share would be well taken care of and protected."

For all the flirtatious words, there is an honesty there. A somewhat strange mix. A promise of meeting the expectations of any lady and her family.

Nichole digests that for a second.

"And perhaps a gardener can be persuaded. If so, what could you possibly offer a flower to sustain it?"

Mary's expression goes from shocked to horrified.

"Any flower so fine should have the life it wishes. Ease and comfort could be given as easily as excitement and adventure. Some flowers are most beautiful when tended, others when allowed to grow free. What I can offer without knowing the heart of such a flower is that my gardens have my full attention and care. My heart and love reside there and I will not neglect them."

It was almost poetic, though he is certainly not a poet.

Both girls are silent for a short while as they assess what they have just heard. Finally, it is Nichole who speaks:

"So...if, hypothetically speaking, a flower grows best in soil found only in London..."

Matilda's jaw drops.

Nichole: "Matty wouldn't have to come."

Matilda: "Oh, I am most certainly coming!"

Nichole: "Not with that attitude."

Matilda: "Well, you're not going alone!"

Nichole laughs: "Going alone wasn't the idea." She turns her dark eyes back to you. "What of it, Gardener? If a flower grows best in London soil--the fun part of London, mind you---would it not almost oblige the gardener to take her there?"

He smiles at the pair, entertained at their back and forth.

"I would certainly welcome the opportunity to do some gardening in the city," he says with a lowering of his head.

He then looks to Matilda. "No flower should be denied the sustenance that she wishes. And it seems that more than just one flower might be interested in seeing such sights. But propriety demands alternate explanations sometimes no?"

Matilda's eyes widen in a flash of anger. "NO!"

Then she thinks about it for a second. "But possibly yes."

Nichole throws her head back and laughs.

"What? Someone has to make sure you don't get into real trouble."

"Yes, Matty. Thank you, Matty." Nichole rolls her eyes in your direction. "So, you have yourself a flowerbox, Tournemine. We'll be expecting your call. London. Thrills. Excitement. Things flowers cannot do without."

He smiles widely at the two of them. "Then it will be my pleasure to call on you for adventure in the city," he says with a warmth in that charming accent. "And I will endeavor to use a bit more of the decorum Matilda is likely expecting in that calling."

His bow for the two of them is properly respectful, but when his eyes meet Nichole's upon rising, green eyes as deep as any forest she'd ever seen, they spoke of excitement.

Nichole's dark eyes hold humor, and just a hint of calculation.

"We are looking forward to it," Nichole said, speaking once again for her sister. It seemed that the prospect of not having a chaperone was a dim one.

Matilda just crossed her arms. "But don't be getting any ideas!"

"I already have plenty of ideas lady Matilda. But I will be certain to run all of them by you first," he says with a nod. "And perhaps you may even enjoy a few of them as well."

Matilda narrowed her eyes. "Not. Likely."

Nichole laughed. "Don't be so quick to grouse, Matty, you don't even know what they are, yet!"

Matilda frowned. "I think I have a pretty good idea. Maybe it would be better if..."

Nichole groaned. "No! William is not going to be an escort. You're wet blanket enough. And besides, Tournemine is a gentle and courteous knight." She looks up at you. "Isn't he?"

"Absolutely," he says with a nod. "I would protect the virtue and safety of any young lady as fervently as I would protect my family. But that doesn't mean I would shelter a young lady from the world. It is full of beauty and wonders meant to be beheld by all."

Nichole chuckled. "And he talks pretty, too."

Matty sighed. "Very well, Lord Tournemine. But you had best live up to your word."

"If I didn't talk pretty my old tutors would certainly take a stick to my knuckles again," he said with a chuckle. "If a man is not worth his word, he is not worth anything. Of course, that means that I need to protect virtue and safety but also that I have to ensure excitement and adventure. A demanding challenge and one I aim to meet," he says with a wide smile.

Matilda finds herself smiling a little at that. "Well, let us see if your pretty talk and convince Father to let us go." She tilts her head. "Otherwise, all of this is moot."

"Well, it's not exactly moot. At the very least I'll have a pleasant memory of lovely flowers in the abbey gardens," he replied to Matilda.

"I will see both of you again soon, Lady Nichole, Lady Matilda," he said with a bow to the girls, apparently confident that he will be successful. "Until then, please take good care of each other, and keep an eye out for incorrigible men. I hear they sometimes roam these gardens in the evening."

When he rises, he looks to each, in particular lingering on Nichole's eyes.

/exit

Nichole's eyes are...evaluative, or maybe she's just trying to ignore her sister, who is aggressively whispering in her ear. But as you move away, perhaps it is just your imagination, but you think you catch a wink.

/scene.