Much Arranged Marriage , livre ebook
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English
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2015
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30
pages
English
Ebook
2015
Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage
Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne En savoir plus
Publié par
Date de parution
30 novembre 2015
Nombre de lectures
0
EAN13
9781785383564
Langue
English
Publié par
Date de parution
30 novembre 2015
Nombre de lectures
0
EAN13
9781785383564
Langue
English
Title Page
A Much
Arranged Marriage
Jim Webster
Publisher Information
Published in 2015 by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
The right of Jim Webster to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998
Copyright © 2015 Jim Webster
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any person who does so may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Chapter 1
It wasn’t a knock of overwhelming force. Far from it, the knock was hesitant, it was the sort of knock that a man in late middle age might use when he arrives home after a very convivial evening and wants to wake a servant to open the door, but does not wish to rouse his young wife.
Before the last echoes of the knock had died away Benor had got out of bed and was starting to dress. This is something any Toelar Roof-runner could do in the dark. In Toelar, teenage girls may leave their clothes strewn in a thick layer over the floor but teenage boys are habitually tidy and lay their clothes aside carefully as they take them off so that they can more easily put them back on. Even in the throes of passion a Toelar man will still somehow manage to leave his clothing carefully arranged.
From downstairs Benor could hear the voice of a servant telling whoever had knocked that he was coming. There was the lifting of the bar and the creak of the door as the master of the house gained admittance. So far Benor’s paramour had not stirred but he was already fully dressed. He put on his shoes with their soft soles and walked as quietly as possible to the window. Outside it was a fine night, indeed the night would soon be over. The street was empty below him and Benor reached out and grasped the knotted cord he had used to make his entry. He tugged firmly and the rope held. He could hear the creaking sound of someone coming upstairs. He swung himself out of the window and climbed the rope, scrambling over the guttering and onto the roof. He stood up, feeling the contours of the tiles through the soles of his shoes. Then he walked up the roof and untied his knotted cord from around the chimney. As quietly as he was able he made his way along the roof ridge. At the end of the terrace there was a narrow street between the houses and the Temple of the Aea in her Aspect as the Personification of Chastity. He laid a plank over the gap and walked across. In Toelar there were any number of these bridges, but here in Port Naain Benor had had to provide his own. He scrambled up the Temple roof and climbed into the cupola of the tower at the summit. He sat there, catching his breath and watching the false dawn on the eastern horizon. Glancing round it struck him as a good place from which to take bearings on some of the other landmarks. He’d need that for his mapping work. The Corn Exchange Tower above the ferry pier at Roskadil and Timball’s Folly at Saskadil would lock in the far side of the estuary. Up on the ridge he could see the Insane Asylum, for the life of him; he couldn’t remember what the symbol was for one of them. Then, with the first hints of true dawn appearing he headed for his own bed. He should arrive back and get a couple of hours sleep before Shena woke him for breakfast.
Tallis was sitting at a table in an unregarded corner of the Grand Salon. He listened carefully to the gossip around him, at the same time trying to give the impression of a man who was dozing, or at best lost in the work of literary creation. While Mistress Bellin Hanchkillian had not specifically asked for his presence, he knew that on those mornings when he wasn’t there, his absence caused comments to be made. Mistress Hanchkillian didn’t expect a lot of her poet, but she did expect his attendance for a couple of hours in the morning, in case she had sudden need of him.
He sipped his coffee. To be fair, she served excellent coffee and one only had to raise a finger to have a maid appear with a tray of biscuits and further refreshment. There were times when he was glad of the chance to breakfast here. Also, if he was honest, it wasn’t as if he had anything else particularly pressing to do. He leaned back in the chair and stretched his legs. Nobody within earshot was saying anything particularly salacious or noteworthy, so he might as well appear to be awakening from his doze.
The door of the Withdrawing Chamber opened and all eyes turned to it. Who would be summoned within? Baltan, Mistress Hanchkillian’s factotum stepped out, closing the door behind him, and looked around the salon. Spotting Tallis, he weaved his way between the people who had been loitering in the middle of the room and came up to the table. Tallis stood up to meet him and Baltan held out a hand. Tallis shook it. “Good to see you, sir.”
“Glad you’re here, Tallis. Mistress would like a word with you.”
“Now?”
Baltan glanced round, and then said dryly, “Unless you have something else planned?”
“No, no, I’m sure I can fit her in.”
“I’m sure she will be suitably flattered. She specifically said she feared she might disturb you in the midst of some taxing literary endeavour.”
Tallis bowed. “She is, as always, too kind.”
Baltan gestured towards the door. “You’d better go, lest the next missive is a maid with a note saying ‘Entirely in your own time’.”
Baltan turned and made his way across the Salon and out. Tallis walked towards the Withdrawing Chamber door, people stepping back out of his way as he approached. At the door a maid opened it before he had chance to knock. He bowed deeply and stepped inside, only for the maid to close the door again, with herself on the outside. Tallis looked round. He was alone with Mistress Hanchkillian.
“Mistress, I came at once.”
She held out her hand to kiss. He walked briskly across the room, knelt and kissed the elderly woman’s hand. She patted him absentmindedly on the head. “Oh get up, Tallis. I have a job for you.”
He stood, immediately alert. Whilst he was happy to play the role of the romantic poet, he had every respect for his patron’s intelligence.
The old lady sat thinking briefly. “It is difficult. I do not wish to betray a confidence, but on the other hand I feel the need to help someone and I think I can, or rather you can help them for me.”
Tallis brushed his moustache with the finger and thumb of his right hand. “I would be glad to be of assistance.”
“I know Tallis, I know. This will probably take the wits of your charming wife as well.” She paused briefly and carefully straightened her lace cuffs. “To put all my pieces on the board, the problem is this: The granddaughter of a dear friend of mine is being blackmailed - due, I am assured, to some trivial girlish indiscretion. Obviously you cannot assist me without knowing the details, and I am not supposed to divulge these details. But if I don’t do something the child will end up in who knows what sort of trouble. So I shall expect absolute secrecy on your part.”
“But I can tell Shena?”
“Oh yes, and if you need to tell that other friend of yours as well. Benor wasn’t it? If you think he can keep his mouth shut. Indeed being a stranger here in Port Naain he might be able to go where you could be recognised.”
“Thank-you for your confidence Mistress, we will do our best to help.”
“Well Tallis, the story I have is roughly as follows. Fidelia was a young woman of seventeen when her father took her with him to Prae Ducis on business. While there her father died and like a dutiful daughter Fidelia stayed on at Prae Ducis to ensure the business didn’t fold. Eventually she felt matters were stable, and came back north to Port Naain. Since then she has become engaged to Thrab Jisqueal. Thrab was a younger son, but the death of his father and two brothers over the course of two or three years has meant that he has been thrust into the limelight as the sole heir of the Jisqueal estate.”
She paused, if only for breath. Tallis felt obliged to contribute. “The Jisqueal family name is an aristocratic one, and I suspect their estate will be large.”
“One of the oldest families in Port Naain, and also one of the richest.”
“The young lady is to be congratulated.”
“Indeed, but the arrival in Port Naain of a man claiming to be her husband from Prae Ducis came as something of a shock. She assumes he has forged some document or other, and she expects to be asked to pay to recover it. Her fear, and her grandmother’s fear, is that word will leak out and the Jisqueal family will call off the marriage.”
“It must be said that this sort of thing can blight a girl’s nuptials. Have you any details? Names, addresses, any idea where this self proclaimed husband can be found?”
She passed him a piece of paper. “Everything I have managed to glean is here. His name is Vargin, sometimes Vargin Acatour, but I suppose here he might call himself Vargin of Prae Ducis. Apparently he has a room in a hostel run by the Clothiers' Guild Benevolent Society in the Ropewalk. He is described as a young man, early twenties, tall, red-haired and clean shaven.”
Tallis asked, “And the grandmother?”
“Sophire Eranis.”
Tallis bowed. “We will see what we can do.”
She nodded. “Keep me informed, Fidelia’s grandmother is a dear friend of mine.” She allowed herself a quiet smile. “As girls we atten
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