“At least they don’t put people in debtor’s prison anymore.”Small consolation for him, probably.
“There is that.Shall we?”Leo extends his arm.
“Yes, please.”I take his arm before I can put my foot in my mouth and remind him about his problems more.
Leo leads me out of the palace and to the front where his carriage and footmen are waiting.Anne follows us out, and joins us in the carriage, which is made of the finest materials, but is on the older side.I can tell in the fading paint, in the wood chipped along the frame, in the velvet seats that are fraying along the edges, that Leo has not been able to upgrade his family carriage in a while.There are flecks of gold on the family crest carved into the door, a horse rearing on the top portion, and a set of trees on the bottom, cut in half diagonally by a silver strip.
While we bump along the pre-modern road, I stare at Leo across from me.Watching the way the light comes in and highlights his black hair before moving on to his high cheekbones.Watching him smile as he points out London landmarks to me as we pass them.
Then I do tear my eyes off him to look outside, because while he’s gorgeous, this is my life’s work and I can only be induced to ignore it for so long.But my head bounces back and forth outside the carriage and inside, taking in all that the past has to offer.
In between looking at history, I take the time to regret that Anne is here so I can’t find out if Leo’s hair is as soft as it looks.
I’m too curious for my own good, but once I find out if it is that soft, I’m sure I’ll be able to focus on the history in front of me.
And after I find out if his plump lips are as kissable as they look.
And after I find out if his chest is as broad as the layers of clothes he’s wearing make it out to be.
Or maybe all of that would only make me want more, something I can’t have.
CHAPTER12
When we get to the British Museum, the allure of historic buildings in their prime outweighs Leo, and after the brief tingles I feel when he helps me out of the carriage, I focus on the history.
Since I’ve already been to the museum (albeit on a lot later date) I’m able to focus on how everything is presented when I am, and the reactions the presentation gets from the Victorian visitors.
Some enjoy the novelty of seeing and learning about things they weren’t aware of before.Others are more interested in the beauty.Some just want to stand before the items from all over the world and remember how far the British Empire extends.Some are interested in finding new motifs and designs to copy for their furnishings to show how worldly they are.And others are here not to see, but to be seen.They want people to know they are intellectual with intellectual pursuits, even if they spend more time focusing on who else is here rather than the art in front of them.
Absolute gold.
Despite still being a bit in awe of the pretty journal Leo gave me, I push past the feeling and take notes during the museum trip.
Then we get to the Parthenon Marbles.Leo looks excited about my reaction to the room and the items in it, keeping his eyes on me instead of the beauty and history surrounding him.
“Is there something I can help you with?”I’m beginning to feel like I’m a museum display.
“No.Only trying to see if you are going to faint.And if so, making sure to be ready to do my duty and catch you before you injure yourself.”
“I’m sorry.Not following.Why would I faint?”
“Because of all the sights you are surrounded by.”He looks around to make sure we’re alone.“Who are unclothed,” he says the last word so low I can’t hear it, only knowing what he said because I watched his mouth move.
“Thank you, for your concern.But I do think I’ll be able to manage.”
“This room has affected many women.It is allowed in the name of education, these being very classical, heroic unclothed men.”The wordunclothedcomes out easier this time.“But we do have to look out for the fragile sensibilities of the fairer sex.”
I laugh directly in his face, not knowing how else to respond to that.Or knowing how, but not wanting to spend all my time in the museum explaining to him why he’s wrong, just for him to ignore me.
I’m still shaking my head at him while I walk around the room.But I can’t stop the judgement that replaces some of the mirth.“Thieves.The lot of you.”
From the sculptures taken out of Assyrian palaces, to the Egyptian funerary goods, to the sculptures in front of me that used to sit on the Acropolis in Athens, most of the pieces of the British Museum do not come from the shores of Britain.And they were often taken against the wishes of the local population, who had no say because of the mechanics of colonialism that meant lords could cart off as many national treasures as they could move.
The Parthenon Marbles in front of me, or the Elgin Marbles depending on who you think should have them, were taken from Greece in the early 1800s, when the Earl of Elgin asked the Ottomans if he could remove the pieces from the Acropolis, and the Ottomans, who were in control of Greece at the time and had used the Parthenon for, among other things, ammunition storage (and yes, it did explode the one time), agreed.Greece has since argued that the removal was illegal and unethical, and have requested them back, building a museum right outside the Acropolis where the pieces could be housed if they’re returned.
I may be angry at the theft, but I don’t waste the opportunity to see the younger versions of the friezes from the Acropolis.Earlier than the last time I saw them, maybe, but still too late to see them without the museum’s unfortunate “cleanings” with metal instruments and too-harsh acids which go against all art conservation guidelines.
“Not me, remember?I am too poor and irrelevant to be the problem,” Leo says.He’s been letting me work in silence without rushing or distracting me, despite the fact that it must be a little boring for him.It must be even more boring for Anne, but I comfort myself thinking this must be better than cleaning a palace.But I might only think that because I hate cleaning, and love history.
