The Viscount of La Soutain (18)

18

Samh 9.29.1342 8:00

 

As soon as Geodor left Jeanilotta, he sent a message to Theodomani asking him to visit the following day. Theodomani did not disappoint. By 8:00 the next morning, he was waiting in the library. Geodor decided to present himself in the most unthreatening way possible and arrived in a silk dressing gown with a novel and coffee. Theodomani, who wanted to challenge him, was thrown entirely off guard.

“It was hardly worth my while that I should become your savior from that cold and vast expanse of space only to rob you afterward of the affections of your lady-love. I confess I didn’t anticipate so great an honor,” Geodor said, extending his hand with a smile.

"At least,” he replied, his face flushed with anger, “You might have spared me your mirthfulness upon a subject, which has destroyed any happiness that might have been mine. Prior to this event, I regarded you as the embodiment of nobleness. You were my standard for all that is great and good in the world. Now, I have been undeceived—” he said dramatically. “I will no longer have confidence in anyone. Nothing but the gratitude I owe you as the preserver of my life prevents me from challenging you to a boxing match.”

“Ah, indeed!” replied Geodor with mock gravity. “However, you forget my position—it would be impossible for me to accept.”

Theodomani was too angry to speak. He walked to the window and began plucking the leaves from a beautiful exotic shrub in full bloom. Geodor watched him for a moment. Suddenly, he realized what Theodomani was doing. Springing up, he caught the hands of the young man, saying, “Come, exhaust your anger upon me—not upon Lira’s poor rose. She’ll never forgive you, and I will.”

“We have been engaged for almost three years,” Theodomani said, tears welling up in his eyes. “In the very parlor where she rejected me, we had declared our affection and pledged our mutual faith in each other. To the best of my knowledge, she was previously always true to me. My heart’s wildest dreams were more than realized in her unchanging, devoted love. I would have sacrificed everything that makes life dear if she had but demanded it—everything, except her love. I came to her last night to ask her to appoint a date for our marriage, and she received me with coldness.” Geodor offered him a handkerchief.

After a few moments blowing his nose, he continued, “I won’t conceal from you that at times I have been jealous, but I kept trying to convince myself I was wrong. Last night, she confessed that her heart had not been as faithful as mine. She accused me of taking advantage of her youth to secure our pledge! When I asked if the attention you recently paid her was the reason for her change of heart, she stated that whether you were the cause or not was none of my business. She said she was giving me back my pledge and told me to make whatever inferences about it that I chose. At the last, she refused to take my hand in parting.” Here, his voice broke, and he again began to cry. Geodor rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Viscount Elwynalam,” Theodomani said, making an intense effort to regain his self-control after a couple of minutes of silent weeping, “will you please tell me why you desired my presence this morning?”

“Ah, that’s true. I had something to say,” Geodor said, his voice instantly changing to one of heart-felt kindness and sympathy. “As I’m not used to making mysteries where none are required, I’ll speak frankly about Miss Gillfillian’s infatuation. Believe me, she is the only one who is infatuated. I don’t love her nor am I attracted to her. However, her eyes are dazzled, her judgment misled, and her imagination excited by my title and my reported wealth. I know that she has no feelings for me personally. Bereft of these external appendages, she is indifferent.”

“Are you sure of that?” asked Theodomani, a little more calmly.

“Yes, I’m perfectly sure. But she has shown her true colors. If she is willing to give up her true love, and I believe she still has feelings for you, is she really worth losing sleep over? She has imposed a life-long separation, has she not? She assured me that you weren’t to visit again.”

“True,” replied the high-spirited lover heatedly.

“Well, I have a simple plan to propose to you. Leave the city, and engage in some active employment or amusement to preserve you from sadness. I plan to marry as soon as I can arrange it, but I promise you I won’t marry Miss Gillfillian.”

“Then are you toying with her?!” exclaimed Theodomani crossly.

Geodor’s clear eyes rested for a moment upon Theodomani as a gentle, peculiar smile played about his mouth. With a low, solemn voice, he said, “I never trifle with the human heart. Mine contains an image far too blessed to admit another.”

“After you take a leave of absence, once I am no longer available to her, one of two things will happen: Either you will find you no longer can tolerate a woman who would discard you like that or she will realize all she has lost and return to you.” After a moment’s pause, he asked, “Do you have perfect confidence in my honor? Will you agree to leave this city?”

“With the greatest pleasure,” answered the happy Theodomani. “I, of course, hope she will resume our relationship when I return.”

“You may change your mind before that time. However, with a little experience added to her present person, she may become a better wife for you if that is the path you eventually choose,” Geodor said, and they parted the best of friends.

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The Viscount of La Soutain (17)

17

Samh 9.28.1342 21:37

 

Beritha was not surprised when Mrs. Gillfillian began to sob and moan with less energy as soon as Abaledina left.

“Beritha,” the woman said, pushing aside the handkerchiefs and the smelling-bottles, which lay in excess about her. “Beritha, why didn’t you prevent Abaledina from receiving that fatal message? It will ruin all our plans, and then I won’t be able to give you the extra for your services.”

“What message, madam?” asked Beritha, feigning innocence with ease.

“The one from Eriath telling Abaledina he didn’t want to marry her. You examined them—you always do,” Mrs. Gillfillian said, looking sternly at her.

Beritha’s countenance was immovable and inexpressive. Mrs. Gillfillian had no power over her. “I did examine the messages today as you ordered, but the message you mention escaped my notice.”

“Beritha,” her mistress said, after a pause, “supposing I send you from my house for this act of disobedience, refuse to pay you what I promised upon Eriath’s marriage with Abaledina, and prevent you from being admitted into another fashionable family in the city.”

“I don’t think you are that foolish, madam. I’m too useful to you,” Beritha said boldly as she nonchalantly twirled one of the cords from the canopy over Mrs. Gillfillian’s bed. “There are reasons dismissing me might punish you instead of me. I know how you have acted toward Eriath and Abaledina even though you know who they really are. I don’t think you want to risk exposing that secret by depriving me of a home.

“You are well aware, madam,” Beritha continued, “because I told you years ago: I work as I’m paid. Unfortunately, of late, you have grown miserly. It has recently occurred to me that Miss Abaledina will give me as much—if not more—to reveal one of your many long-cherished secrets. I wish for the money I’ve earned. I don’t care how it comes to me.”

“What do you want?” Mrs. Gillfillian asked sternly. Her rage was beyond comparison, but Beritha did not fear it. “You came to me nearly a beggar—just look at yourself in that mirror—many a lady would be proud of your dresses. In my house, too, you have the utmost freedom. You receive company when you choose; you order around the other servants; you control everything as you wish, but now you presume to interfere with the plans I’ve labored years to achieve. Is this your gratitude?”

“I know nothing of gratitude or ingratitude,” replied Beritha pertly. “As I said, I work for money. I’m certain Abaledina would give two hundred-thousand-notes to learn my secret.” Here, she paused. Despite Jeanilotta’s belief in Viscount Elwynalam’s affection for her, Beritha had a feeling he would pay at least that to know her secret. However, she wanted to keep that card to herself. “You have promised me one hundred-thousand-note upon the week of their marriage. If you raise that to two hundred-thousand-notes instead, I’ll be silent. If not, I’ll tell her all.”

Her proud mistress groaned aloud at having the tables turned. Beritha maintained her impenetrable visage.

“I promise,” Mrs. Gillfillian said with effort. Beritha left the room and quickly returned with her com-tab.

“This time, it must be an official contract. I have taken the liberty of writing it out. You just need to sign here with your fingerprint.” Beritha smiled. Jeanilotta was not the only person who could bend her parents to her will.

The full ebook is available HERE or check back tomorrow for the next chapter.

The Viscount of La Soutain (16)

16

Samh 9.28.1342 20:00

 

Beritha, as usual, was going through the day’s messages when one caught her interest. Her finger hovered over the message for a moment. Then she pulled the finger back without opening it.

“I won’t,” she said quietly to herself. “I haven’t been paid. I won’t toil for unfulfilled promises. I’ll let Miss Abaledina get this as it is. If this foils my mistress’ plans, so much the better. Either I shall be better paid the next time, or if there is reproach and revenge, I’ll reveal one of my many secrets to the right people.”

Letting the message continue untouched, she closed the app.

* * * * * *

“Bah! Here’s a message from my son,” the Lieutenant said as he sat in the main parlor, perusing his com-tab.

“I, too, just received one,” Abaledina added.

The Lieutenant glanced over his message with the sharp, quick eye of a man of business. But Abaledina noted his face grew a shade paler, and he became agitated as he proceeded.

“Twelve hundred-thousand-notes—four of them belonging to—” he slowly repeated in a voice scarcely above a whisper. His eyes fell on Abaledina before he broke off. She looked at him, puzzled, and he quickly shook himself before continuing. “Bah! I trust this isn’t the beginning of a series of misfortunes for me. A dozen such losses would ruin me.”

Mrs. Gillfillian had been dozing in an easy chair by the fire, but at the word “ruin,” she opened her eyes in terror and demanded, “What is ruined?”

“Your husband will be soon, madam,” responded the irritated man, “You need to regulate your domestic matters accordingly.”

“Me! Are you speaking to me, Lieutenant Gillfillian?” his wife demanded contemptuously. “And what do I have to do with the domestic affairs of our house? You surely have been dreaming.”

“No, no—it’s you who have been dreaming,” her husband shouted wildly. He was seldom angry except with the loss of money. “I tell you, madam,” he continued, “that we must find some way to reduce our budget. I don’t want the world to learn about this loss, so we will dismiss the servants that can be spared: Jeanilotta’s maid, for instance. Beritha can serve you both. The footman you hired yesterday must go and with him the chauffeur. Don’t argue with me. It won’t have any effect, and tears will be utterly useless. If anyone discovers this shortfall, I’ll lose all my business!”

“Uncle,” interrupted Abaledina. She had quickly lost interest in the argument when he had started ranting about finances. During his display, she instead read the message from Eriath. “Uncle, may I have your permission to read a few lines from my message? It is from Eriath, and you may as well hear it at once.”

“You may read it, but I don’t care to hear his nonsense to you.”

“I don’t think you will call it such once you have heard it:

The time has arrived, Abaledina, when I must undeceive you about my affection. Forgive me, if I cause you to be miserable. Honor demands that I can no longer allow you to waste your early and devoted love upon one who never has—nor ever can return it.

It's no easy task for me to bring misery upon the head of one so beautiful and good, but I trust you won’t utterly reject my struggling feelings. The sorrow I feel for causing you pain is deep and sincere. However, you would not wed me—surely you would not when my heart does not feel anything in that way for you and secretly longs for another. I still and will always give you a brother’s love, but that feeling has destroyed—

“Stop!” Lieutenant Gillfillian sternly exclaimed. “The boy is infatuated with another and temporarily insane. And, yes, that is the same nonsense he wrote to me in a post script of the message I received: ‘I can’t fulfill my engagement—my heart isn’t in it.’ It is all supremely ridiculous.”

“Uncle,” Abaledina said mildly, after waiting a moment for him to calm, “Eriath is not alone in these sentiments. I don’t love him. I don’t want to marry him either.”

“You, too!” he said, looking at Abaledina with a strangely mingled expression of anger and surprise.

Here, the conversation was interrupted by something between a groan and a shriek from Mrs. Gillfillian. Abaledina sprang to her aunt while her uncle condescended to press the button to summon her maid.

A moment after Beritha entered, Jeanilotta also came into the room highly flushed with excitement, but she stopped cold upon beholding her mother extended upon the sofa in violent hysterics. Abaledina and Beritha bent over Mrs. Gillfillian, attempting to calm the woman while her uncle sat nearby reading the rest of his messages, uninterested, with a sour and angry countenance.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Jeanilotta asked.

“Your mother had several shocks at once. Eriath and I have called off our engagement, and your father plans to dismiss several servants, including your maid.”

“Well, papa,” she flew at her father in a rage, “what is this you are going to do? I won’t let Laleda go.”

“She must go. Beritha will wait upon you,” he replied firmly without looking up from his messages.

“My maid won’t go. You have my word on it,” continued Jeanilotta, who had been venerated from childhood and was more accustomed to obeying her own dictates instead of her parents’ commands. She summoned her maid.

“Laleda,” she said as soon as the girl entered, “do you acknowledge any other masters or mistresses than myself?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Do I pay you well?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you wish to leave me?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Well, they talk of sending you away.” Jeanilotta pointed at her father, and Laleda began to cry, adding to the shrieks of Mrs. Gillfillian. “Don’t fret! You won’t go. Listen, and do what I bid you: Go to my private den, lock the door, and remain there until I come to release you. Now!”

Laleda disappeared immediately.

“There. You can’t send her away. Don’t you see?” she added, looking sharply at her father. Unfortunately, Abaledina had witnessed many battles such as this between her cousin, aunt, and uncle. She knew what the outcome would be before it concluded. She was surprised that her uncle hadn’t anticipated it.

“Now, papa,” Jeanilotta continued without another glance toward her frenzied mother, “I came here with good news. Would you like to hear it?”

“No,” he growled.

“But you’ll listen, and it will do you good. How would you fancy Viscount Elwynalam for a son-in-law?”

Thankfully, Abaledina’s gasp was covered by Mrs. Gillfillian’s continued hysterics. For a second, she was worried that Beritha alone had heard it. The maid’s eyes flicked toward her and returned to their work so quickly that Abaledina thought perhaps she had imagined it.

“How—what do you mean?” her uncle asked, smiling despite himself.

“Simply this—I discarded Theodomani, and Viscount Elwynalam pays me the most serious attention.”

“But you gave Montrevor your word,” her father interrupted, his smile falling.

“No matter,” she replied. For a moment, her lips trembled with some unexpressed emotion. “You and Mother had not yet signed the contract, and one can’t always keep one’s promises. I suppose you won’t object to the change?”

“Let me alone. I am surprised only that Viscount Elwynalam agreed to it.” Jeanilotta’s eyes fell, and a slight blush filled her cheeks, causing Abaledina to wonder what she did to get the viscount to agree. Her uncle continued with good-natured petulance. “I won’t be held responsible for any evil that results from these changes.”

Lieutenant Gillfillian returned to his messages and after a few moments, bade his wife a hasty good night.

“Try to come out of your hysterics as rapidly as possible,” he added before retiring to his study.

Jeanilotta came to where Abaledina and Beritha attended to her mother for a few moments. Once she saw there would be no opportunity to communicate the alteration to a rational mother, she withdrew to her apartment. After helping Beritha move the inconsolable woman to her bed, Abaledina soon followed her cousin’s example since she could provide no additional assistance to her aunt.

* * * * * *

In her private den, Abaledina perused Eriath’s long message again. She silently thanked him for his goodness, but she could not solve the mystery of why it contained almost the same information she had sent him without it being a reply to her message. She wondered if her message had perhaps vexed him so much that he wanted to be the one rejecting her instead of being rejected by her. She quickly discarded this solution because it was unworthy of him. Likely he wanted to take the blame instead of having it fall on her. Although this explained his message to her uncle, it still did not explain why he sent such an odd message to her. She decided she would have to wait until he arrived to learn the truth behind it.

Her thoughts then turned to Jeanilotta’s proclamation and Viscount Elwynalam. He had expressed the most tender sentiments to her at the museum with the statement that he would wait for her. She saw Theodomani leaving and knew her foolish cousin must have broken his heart. When she arrived in her empty parlor after Jeanilotta had sent her there on the false premise of a visitor, she should have instantly returned to the main parlor. Perhaps once she had left, Viscount Elwynalam had fallen prey to her cousin’s wiles.

She was slightly unsettled because if he had waited one day, she would have encouraged a more serious relationship with him now that her cousin had released her conscience. She understood that she asked much of him, so she did not begrudge him his choice. Before she drifted off to sleep, she resolved to keep her distance now that he had chosen another.

The full ebook is available HERE or check back tomorrow for the next chapter.

The Viscount of La Soutain (15)

15

Samh 9.28.1342 16:00

 

Right after the ball, Abaledina feared that by being independent, she had created bitter enemies of her family. She had fallen asleep forming plans of reconciliation with those whom she feared she had offended.

Viscount Elwynalam became a frequent and unceremonious visitor. Upon his first visit, she spoke privately from her heart with him. At that time, she reminded him that until Eriath formally released her from their engagement, she would not allow herself to think of loving anyone. In her heart, she believed she would eventually be free, but she would never make a man wait for her on such uncertainty.

Once she had explained this, he displayed all the kindness of a brother to her. He never brought up tender subjects and never tried to pressure her into giving more of her heart than she felt was proper. This respect he afforded her made her feel at ease, and by degrees, she shared more of her private thoughts with him.

Abaledina noticed that from the night of the ball, Jeanilotta was an altered being. Abaledina had attempted to reconcile with her cousin, but she was cold and haughty. Had this been her only personality change, Abaledina might have worked harder to resolve their differences. However, her cousin also treated Theodomani icily. She was nervous and irritable toward him. On the other hand, Jeanilotta did all she could to show the viscount that she was brilliant and beautiful.

Abaledina noted that Theodomani continued spending his evenings in their home, but when Viscount Elwynalam was there, he was all but ignored. She tried to be as attentive as she could without misleading Jeanilotta’s beau. She saw his confidence in the viscount falter instead of placing the blame where it belonged. Whenever he glanced at Jeanilotta, Theodomani was affected by her attitudes and reactions. She knew Jeanilotta’s indifference did nothing to ease her betrothed’s suspicions.

Viscount Elwynalam was the one person who had not changed.

One evening a fortnight after the ball, he took Abaledina to the art museum. It was a brisk evening, but they had both agreed to walk.

The bottom floor of the La Soutain Museum of Art contained ancient and modern works from all over Samh. They were first grouped by era and then by location. The middle level contained ancient and modern works from other planets in Upsilon Andromedae. The top floor contained replications of important artwork from ancient Earth.

“Which is your favorite collection?” he asked as they stood in line in the great entrance hall for tickets.

“I like all art—as long as it’s good,” she said with a smile. “My favorite collections as a whole are Ancient Western Guillway, Medieval Dathuane, and Modern Anorraq and Swienzea. I also like some of the work from Earth. How about you?”

“Ancient Western Guillway and Modern Anorraq are good, but I like the Medieval art from some of the other planets in Upsilon Andromedae.”

“I haven’t spent much time on the items from other planets. Why don’t we start there, and you can explain what you see in it.”

With that, they were off to the second floor. Viscount Elwynalam showed her a corner gallery she must have previously missed. Inside it were sculptures made of layers of what looked like jellyfish in different shapes and orientations, nestled slightly apart from each other, and floating in the air. She had to agree the designs were unique and quite beautiful.

Then, he led her down a corridor where metallic shards were arranged in different formations. As the light hit them, they revealed the faces of the founding colonizers of each planet.

“This is a series by Blyricht. I am not overly fond of most of his work, but these are fascinating.”

“I think I have been here hundreds of times, but I never discovered the treasures on this floor,” she said.

“I’m glad you enjoy them,” he replied.

She felt his gaze and turned toward him curiously. Their eyes locked, and her breath hitched.

“You are more beautiful than any of the art in this museum,” he said, his voice raspy. She could not stop the blush from rising to her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he swallowed loudly. “I know you are still engaged. I should not have voiced that thought. I find it very difficult to sit on the outside and watch you struggle with your marriage contract—doing all you can to behave honorably even though he is absent—while at the same time, your cousin flirts shamelessly with me in front of her betrothed. The only way I can be in your presence and behave honorably toward you is by sitting across the room from you, which puts me next to her dishonorable behavior. Here, with you alone, where I was not under such pressure, I allowed my guard to drop. Please, forgive me.”

“I—I don’t know what to say. A small part of me whispers I should kill my conscience. But then I would be like my cousin, and her behavior right now is detestable to me. I enjoy spending time with you, but I must keep you at arms-length as best I can. I can’t even promise you what will happen once I’m released. I believe we would get along well together, but if you are tortured over me, perhaps we should not be in each other’s presence until my fate is decided.”

“Staying away from you would torture me even more. I will do better at controlling my words and keep reminding myself it can’t be too much longer until you hear a response from Eriath.”

* * * * * *

As they walked home in silence, Geodor tried to sort through all his thoughts. He had already used his resources and spare time to discover that Abaledina was almost as rich as he was—and that she had no access to her fortune for another year. He confirmed she had been betrothed at a young age to her purported cousin, but he had found no record of birth for Eriath Gillfillian—yet. He had also learned that the Gillfillians were in deep financial trouble. On the surface, it looked to him as if they were trying to claim her income through their son, but loose ends made the situation messy. To Geodor, messy loose ends were just more mysteries to solve.

As they approached the Gillfillian’s home, Theodomani stormed out of the front door, flashing a jealous look at him without responding to his greeting.

When they entered the main parlor, Jeanilotta was alone, dabbing a bit of rose water behind her ears.

“My dear Abaledina,” she said, “someone is awaiting your return in our parlor; she desired to see you immediately.”

“I had a lovely evening, Viscount Elwynalam. Thank you for opening my eyes to a whole new world of artwork.” Abaledina said, curtsying slightly.

“It was my pleasure,” he replied. He watched as she hurried out of the room.

Turning back to Jeanilotta, he noticed she wore an almost malicious smile of triumph.

“Where is Theodomani tonight?” Geodor demanded, knowing he had just left.

“Mr. Montrevor will not be visiting us in the future,” Jeanilotta replied with slight disdain. “Indeed, our engagement was one formed in comparative childhood two years ago, and it has never been deemed a very suitable alliance by my parents.”

“What could they possibly find wrong with his proposal? He is doting, and I believe his wealth is greater than that of your family.”

“I’m sure my parents have given few thoughts to his wealth. Their wealth is more than sufficient.”

Geodor kept his face a mask, knowing the truth behind that lie.

“If they’ve always been against it then why was it allowed to continue until the present time?” he asked with an air of indifference.

“Circumstances favored it. Indeed, they regarded it as a thing in the very distant future. They have long believed we would eventually separate.”

“But as it approaches—”

“As it approaches,” interrupted Jeanilotta, “I find the thought of marrying him repugnant. When I realized my feelings, I knew I immediately needed to destroy any expectations he might have. I saw this as the kindest way to save him from prolonged heartache.”

“I must agree that one should not marry where one does not love,” he replied, secretly amazed at how such a fickle woman could be related to Abaledina. Their conversation languished for a few moments. Geodor remained in deep thought even when she attempted to engage him. He absentmindedly nodded his head while she continued prattling.

The light touch of a finger upon his arm jerked him back to the present. He turned his eyes upon Jeanilotta.

"You are dreaming,” she merrily exclaimed. “You forgot my presence.”

“True. I beg your pardon,” he replied. With that, he did his best to focus on the conversation, pretending to disregard everything else. He could see Jeanilotta was proud of her brilliance, and she apparently thought she was making a magnificent impression on him.

Geodor neither encouraged nor denied her clear aims. He did not care how she felt about him. He could play her game as long as she wanted to play without falling victim to it. He maintained his engaged indifference until he deemed he had stayed long enough to be polite.

“Oh, must you go so soon?” she cooed as he turned toward the door.

“Yes,” he replied firmly, quickly exiting the house to keep her from pressing him further. 

The full ebook is available HERE or check back tomorrow for the next chapter.

The Viscount of La Soutain (14)

14

Samh 9.15.1342 3:00

 

Beritha was with her mistress at three in the morning, still listening to the tirades of a night gone horribly wrong when, late—or rather early—as it was, Jeanilotta begged admission to her mother’s dressing room. Mrs. Gillfillian went from unbearably upset to consoling.

“Is it to be endured?” Jeanilotta demanded impatiently, her eyes flashing a fire not customarily seen there. “Is it to be endured?” she repeated petulantly.

“Tush! He’s a viscount. Men like him will do what they please in spite of us. But listen—being angry is useless; we must transact our affairs more intensely. I know that Abaledina is planning to refuse your brother. I presume she performed her antics tonight because she intends to captivate Viscount Elwynalam. Can we allow this to happen?”

“No!” Jeanilotta answered vehemently.

“No, indeed. Your brother will be ruined if she marries another because we can’t survive without her money. If Viscount Elwynalam stands in the way of our success, we must put our entire faith in you. You are the only one with the power to remove that obstacle.”

“Me!” exclaimed the passionate girl. “How? He barely glanced at me this evening!”

For a moment, the vindictive mother scanned her daughter’s face. Then, with a voice and manner that plainly showed the deep waters of affection had never rippled over her heart, she said, “Can you renounce your love of Theodomani?”

“He loves me, and he’s rich! Viscount Elwynalam paid me no mind this evening. You ask me to give up what is certain for that which may not be attainable. Never—never!”

“But the circumstances, my child—consider them well,” she allowed her voice to drop for a calculated minute. “Of course, you are free to choose your own path.”

“Mother! Mother! How could I do this?” Beritha watched as her mistress’ daughter pressed her hands to her head as if to repress its wild, unnatural thoughts.

“Think calmly, my dear. Have you no ambition for a title? No desire for the boundless wealth the viscount is said to possess? In short, Jeanilotta, could you not forget Theodomani Montrevor, the plain entertainer’s son who lacks a government position, if you were the bride of Viscount Elwynalam, the noble doctor?”

“And what of Theodomani?” gulped the girl.

“Do you believe that because Theodomani declares he couldn’t live without you, he’s in earnest?" her mother asked with a chuckle and a slight sneer that defeated her object at once. Even Beritha knew nothing aroused Jeanilotta’s sense of righteousness except contempt or opposition.

 “He has been loving and faithful to me. There isn’t the risk of rejection that I would have if I tried for the viscount. No—I cannot—I will not give him up.”

“Well then—the effect of all this romancing is upon your head. Just don’t come crying to me when Abaledina's fortune is united to Viscount Elwynalam’s and she’s the viscountess of his splendid mansion. Understand that I am giving you that choice right now, but you have refused—so good night. I wish you joy of your decision.” With that, Beritha followed the matron into her sleeping apartment.

As soon as the panel closed with the daughter on the other side, Beritha’s mistress predictably began plotting.

“You know what you must do,” she quietly told Beritha. “As soon as she’s asleep, read the diary, and tell me how things lay.”

“Aye, madam.”

It had been a sultry autumnal day, and the air of the house was heavy with the perfume of an immense quantity of flowers scattered in every direction for the ball. To Beritha, it was oppressive. She threw open a window in her room and stepped onto the balcony with her com-tab to cool down in the night breeze while hacking her way into Jeanilotta’s diary.

Once she had finished her task, she was relieved to see her mistress would be pleased:

 

9.16.1342
Dearest,

It is all true. I, who have been idolized for years by Theodomani, could not suffer to see her take precedence. I have loved her as if she were my blood sister—it is true. When her gentle eyes are upon me and I feel how pure her spirit is, there’s a momentary wish to be like her—but no! Impossible! This night has called forth my evil nature. From this day forward, I must speak only honeyed words so none suspect the revenge and hatred in my heart. Tonight, he chose to linger at her side. I can’t allow that to happen again. But Theodomani—ah, well, let the future decide. Perhaps my rejection of you won’t have you stray too far. If things with the viscount do not work out in my favor, I can retrieve you. As for me, I will mold my future to my will. But Abaledina—Abaledina—beware how you cross my path!

 

Beritha leaned back into her chair and considered her own path. She had initially judged correctly: Abaledina had caught the viscount’s eye. If Abaledina failed to marry Eriath, her years of work would be unpaid. Jeanilotta was willing to risk her happiness to try to catch the viscount’s eye, but Beritha knew men like him. They might amuse themselves with someone as poor and low-class as Jeanilotta, but they could smell money and high-class from a mile away. Men like the viscount did not marry outside the expected hierarchy.

Beritha snorted. If she had the choice between the two girls, she most definitely would choose Abaledina.

With her mind made up on the path she would take, all she had to do now was figure out how to get off her mistress’ side without arousing suspicion and how to best get onto Abaledina’s side. 

The full ebook is available HERE or check back tomorrow for the next chapter.

The Viscount of La Soutain (13)

 13

Samh 9.14.1342 22:00

 

Viscount Elwynalam’s sharp retort did more than he promised, and they were unbothered for the rest of the evening. He parted from Abaledina with a friendly grasp of the hand after she willingly gave him permission to become a regular, welcome visitor.

Upon retiring to the shared parlor immediately afterward, Abaledina continued smiling, which she attributed to spending such a wonderful evening in such good company. With all her wealth and beauty, she was neither proud nor vain and did not suspect that Viscount Elwynalam had fallen in love with her after only two meetings nor did she presume that he intended to do so in the future. Her humble opinion of herself only allowed her to know she had been very content with him, and he had lifted her spirits in a way no other man had. She supposed he had also enjoyed her company since he had not sought out someone else’s company even when given the perfect opportunity to do so.

“Isn’t he splendid!” gushed Jeanilotta as she flitted into the parlor with a flushed cheek and flashing eye. “I acknowledge it frankly: I would adore such a man for my husband. Now, tell me your opinion.”

 “I can hardly form one on such a slight acquaintance,” replied Abaledina quietly. “But I think he possesses a noble soul.”

“Did he tell you when he was coming back to see us?”

“He asked me if he could return without making a formal date. I told him that would be fine, but isn’t it wiser for us not to think about him? In a few weeks, you and Theodomani will be united, and I—I—” Here, she hesitated and blushed deeply.

“Speak for yourself. Unlike you, I haven’t been pledged from childhood to a man, and I didn’t give that pledge on my father’s dying breath—witnessed by my parents and his. I have no honor oath binding me to Theodomani. I merely accepted his proposal two years ago privately and verbally. Surely that doesn’t bind me to him like your oath binds you to my brother. Who’s to say what might happen in the next few weeks?”

With that, Jeanilotta pranced into her bathroom, leaving Abaledina staring after her perplexed. In her mind, forming an attachment based on love as an adult had much more weight than an attachment forced upon you as a child, but perhaps both had equal weight.

The full ebook is available HERE or check back tomorrow for the next chapter.

The Viscount of La Soutain (12)

12

Samh 9.14.1342 19:00

 

Geodor and Jeanilotta were left standing in the middle of the room as Abaledina’s aunt whisked her away through the crowd. All he could do was offer his arm to her cousin, which was graciously accepted. He found it difficult to believe Abaledina was unwell.

“Is your cousin really ill? Have I caused her to be more so? We must check on her so I may apologize,” he said, trying to lead her into the ballroom.

“Not seriously so,” Jeanilotta said quickly, detaining him, “She was only feeling a little poorly yesterday, but mamma is so careful of her for my brother’s sake.”

Geodor frowned. Based on what Abaledina told him, the match was unwelcome, and the couple hadn’t spent time together for six years. He wondered why her mother and cousin were pushing for it and kept reminding him about it. At the same time, Jeanilotta had a doting beau whom she claimed to love, but she was simpering on his arm. His line of work had taught him to be suspicious, and he began to wonder what exactly was going on in this household. Whatever it was, he had a feeling Abaledina was the one going to be harmed by it.

“Nevertheless, we will go check on her,” he said firmly tugging her in the direction that Mrs. Gillfillian had taken. Regrettably, at every turn were obstructions through the dense crowd.

“I think she went this way,” Jeanilotta said sweetly. They progressed for a bit, and then she tugged him a different way. “Actually, I believe it was this way.”

Periodically, she would stop and talk, showing off that she was hanging on his arm. He began to believe she was deliberately keeping him from his goal. However, they eventually came upon the old ladies with whom Abaledina was left.

“Well, I was sure Mother was bringing her to sit here,” Jeanilotta said. “Excuse me, Mrs. Urlegaldo, have you seen Abaledina?”

“Yes, she said she had a headache and went to her room just a few minutes ago.”

“Oh, my, I shall have to go and check on her myself to make sure that silly maid of hers is taking good care of her!” Mrs. Gillfillian exclaimed as she came up behind them. “I knew she overdid it tonight!”

“I was preparing to leave. I would like to go up to her and bid her adieu.”

“Oh, I am afraid Abaledina is too ill to see you anymore this evening. I will be sure to give her your regards,” the aunt parried.

“No, if she permits me, I must see her to wish her well and tell her I’m sorry for contributing to her condition,” he replied, determinedly.

“I’ll see if she is up to it,” Mrs. Gillfillian said hurrying off. She shortly returned, arousing his suspicion that she had not visited the woman in question.

“I’m sorry, Viscount Elwynalam,” she declared, “Abaledina expressed much regret but said that it would be impossible for her to see you again this evening.” Geodor gave Mrs. Gillfillian a polite nod. Then he Jeanilotta to Theodomani and tenderly placed her hand in his. He started for the door then stopped and drew Mrs. Gillfillian aside.

“Madam,” he said in a low, calm tone. “I offer thanks for your exceeding kindness. I do have one more favor to ask. Will you have the goodness to summon the Abaledina’s maid?”

“With the greatest pleasure,” she replied, as politely as she could, but her anger and fear were quite visible to him.

When the girl appeared, he said quietly, “Conduct me to your mistress’ parlor immediately.” The simple girl did as she was told. Once they were at the door, he continued, “Go and see if Miss Gillfillian will receive Viscount Elwynalam for a few moments.”

She entered and quickly returned.

“She begs you to enter.”

He was not surprised to find that contrary to what those below had said, she did not look ill at all. In fact, he had never seen her half so beautiful as when she rose from the easy chair and advanced to meet him. A single tear glistened in her eye and cast a saddened expression over her whole face.

Geodor’s first impulse was to clasp her in his arms, but he was not a creature of impulse. Tenderly taking her hands in his own, he said melodiously, “I have been forced to be very rude to you tonight. I trust I am already pardoned, but permit me to ask if I have been in any way accessory to your illness.”

“No, indeed,” she replied, smilingly. “Fear not, my illness only exists in my aunt’s imagination. I retired here because although I am used to being a spectator, I grew weary of being a prisoner, too. Here,” she said pointing to the books in her library, “I have friends that are always true.”

 “I have a favor to request,” Geodor said, after having contemplated her a moment with surprise and admiration. “Will you return to the ball with me? I think I can secure for ourselves another pleasant hour, and I shall ever be grateful.”

* * * * * *

Abaledina’s stomach flip-flopped, and she hesitated. She understood the reasons for her aunt’s contrivance and knew that she would be very angry with her if she went with him. On the other hand, she had already instigated opposition to her aunt’s plans. The present was a good opportunity to show her independence. There was also the fact she wanted to oblige him.

“Bring my gloves,” she said to Luna, and after pulling them on, she gave her hand to him. They silently proceeded downstairs to the room where her aunt had interrupted them. Viscount Elwynalam then proceeded as if nothing had occurred, remarking upon an exquisitely done family portrait.

“That came from Swienzea,” Abaledina said. “The lady leaning upon the bosom of the aged man was my mother. It was the last time she found comfort in her grandfather’s arms; they both died soon after the portrait was created. The other elderly man was my great-grandfather’s neighbor. The tall, stern man is my grandfather. The neighbor’s son is the man sitting there in blue. He is holding his young son’s hand. I’ve often wondered how my charming mother found herself in a portrait with so many proud and stern men.”

Viscount Elwynalam gazed earnestly at the portrait.

“In Swienzea, you must have a large and well-connected family. Where are they?” he asked at length.

“I’ve never met them,” she replied. “I’m sorry that I don’t know their names. I’ve no recollection of my mother and only think of her as she is represented in this portrait. My mother died young while she was here in Anorraq.”

“Ah, there you are, my dear,” her aunt’s shrill voice suddenly interrupted their private perusal of the artwork. “Have you recovered so soon? How very fortunate!” Mrs. Gillfillian had a nervous smile plastered upon her face as she roughly kissed Abaledina’s cheek. “You are pale yet,” she chided. “Viscount Elwynalam must be a powerful magnet to have drawn you from your sick room. I only hope he shall not have cause to repent the indiscretion.”

“Mrs. Gillfillian,” Viscount Elwynalam said menacingly. “I found this lady quite healthy and enjoying a book, which she relinquished for my gratification. If relieving a lady from the sickness of being a bored prisoner was reckless on my part, I will assume the consequences,” he shot back at her. “If, however, you are fabricating an illness to prevent your ward from enjoying society, it must be reported to the authorities.” That said, he gave the woman a crushing look, wrapped Abaledina’s hand around his arm, and passed into the next room with her. 

The full ebook is available HERE or check back tomorrow for the next chapter.

The Viscount of La Soutain (11)

 11

Samh 9.14.1342 18:00

The long-anticipated day for the ball arrived after immense preparations had been made for the reception of all who were important in La Soutain. After much debate, Abaledina and her cousin dressed in matching, armless, body suits with crescent-shaped cutouts on the sides. The pant legs of the suit flared into a heel length split skirt. As usual, Abaledina’s was in violet and Jeanilotta’s in a daffodil yellow.

 The apartments were brilliantly lit, the guests arrived gaily dressed every moment, the enchanting music played in the ballroom, those who were politically minded sat in earnest discussion upon the latest work in the mines, the ambitious parents were delighted to push their young charges into the arms of suitable matches, and the well-trained servants moved noiselessly here and there to execute the multiplicity of commands. Abaledina did her best to help where she was needed and to stay out of the way where she was not.

When Viscount Elwynalam was announced, those around her strained to see him. He, however, proved to be an unostentatious man, simply dressed in a suit of brown, with a bold, cream and olive neckcloth carelessly wrapped about his neck. This with his unzipped collar had the effect of framing a well-toned upper chest. On one shoulder was a calf-length, violet cape that was held in place by a hand-sized crest of La Soutain. To the infinite surprise of all, he came on foot and unattended. 

After cordially exchanging salutations with Lieutenant Gillfillian and his lady, he passed to Theodomani and Jeanilotta, who welcomed him warmly, and then to Abaledina. A slight blush overspread her sweet countenance, as she extended her hand and replied to his remarks with perfect self-possession. 

“I am afraid my work does not allow me much time to socialize. I am a stranger here,” he said at length. “Your cousin is engaged with her beau so will you allow me a general claim upon your hand whenever you wish to dance?” 

Pleasure swept through her soul momentarily, but it was quickly stifled by the knowledge of the envy and punishment she would incite against her. 

“I truly wish I could allow you to make that claim,” she said raising her eyes to his, “but I, too, am, unfortunately engaged.”

“Unfortunately?” 

“It was arranged when we were children. I have not been able to broach the matter of breaking the engagement because my intended has constantly been away.”

“That does not sound like much of an engagement.”

“All the same, I will do all I can to render this evening a pleasant experience for you, but please pardon me if I hesitate to take for myself so enviable a distinction as dancing with you the entire night. I will give you my hand for two dances provided you ask my cousin for the same number.”

“Then I will dance but four times," he replied decisively. 

“How can you make such an assertion," she asked, teasingly, "with all these eyes glancing so wishfully about you?” 

“I am solely at your mercy. I can easily avoid those interactions that do not appeal to me if you will oblige me by not making any formal introductions." Then drawing her arm through his own, an act that caused her heart to beat faster, he led her to the dance floor. 

She soon discovered he was an excellent dancer and hoped her skills were up to the match. Although she and her cousin were well-trained, she had only rarely used the skills. At most balls, she was required to make sure everything ran smoothly. She spent most of her time amusing the young girls who could not find dances or pairing them with the gentlemen who asked her for one. To dance with Lord Elwynalam was a treat. 

Once they finished the first dance, he did not pressure her for the second—which was fine with her since she would have refused until he danced at least once with Jeanilotta. Instead, they passed slowly through the different rooms, stopping to discuss the artwork. Some splendid pictures and a few marble busts occupied him for a long time. Never had Abaledina so enjoyed an intellectual conversation. It was a new and exquisite source of pleasure to share her thoughts with someone so considerate and highly gifted. 

She was not, however, permitted this happiness undisturbed because at every turn she encountered the jealous, watchful eye of her aunt, who repeatedly fixed upon her with an expression of angry surprise. To make matters worse, she would come over and attempt to conceal her ire with flattering attentions to their comfort. 

“Abaledina, my love,” she cooed at length with a sweet smile as she approached them, “this will never do. Yesterday, you were sadly ill, and now you are standing all the evening. Really, my lord, you must excuse my anxiety for the sweet child. She is so very dear to us and is soon, you know, to become doubly our own by her marriage to my son, whom she has loved since childhood. My daughter will be happy to relieve her for you must permit Abaledina some rest." 

“I am fine, dear aunt,” she replied, in bewilderment. 

“Now, I know how you like to hide it when you are under the weather,” Mrs. Gillfillian said, pulling her away from Lord Elwynalam. Then, she led her off to a seat between two old ladies so rapidly that had Abaledina truly been sick, she would have not made it. 

"Now, my dear friends, please feel free to exercise your authority over my niece for at least an hour,” her aunt admonished the ladies. “It is all for her own good. I’m afraid she has been exerting herself too much this evening.”  However, her aunt apparently did not believe the ladies would be able to keep up the task very long because every five minutes she seemed to come back and ensure Abaledina remained with them. 

Finally, when Abaledina realized there was no hope of any more pleasure this evening, she excused herself and went to the parlor she shared with her cousin, where she could at least entertain herself by reading.

The full ebook is available HERE or check back tomorrow for the next chapter.

The Viscount of La Soutain (10)

 10

Samh 9.11.1342 07:00

 

Abaledina sat in her private den, daydreaming about Viscount Elwynalam. Her com-tab lay in her lap. Its screen displayed an empty message to Eriath.

First, she had been stricken by Viscount Elwynalam’s regal carriage and poise in contrast to her uncle’s and aunt’s hunched, grasping postures. His shoulder-length wavy brown hair and soft blue eyes radiated kindness. His short-trimmed beard accented his angular jawline. His nose was strong and straight. That he had tried to include her in the conversation her cousin had wanted to monopolize did not help her wayward thoughts.

She could not blame her cousin, but she was not one to fight over a man. She also felt any chance she might have had with Viscount Elwynalam was lost when Jeanilotta mentioned her betrothed. She knew she must first speak with Eriath and dissolve the betrothal before finding her true love—if such a match for her existed. It was just particularly challenging to control her breathing when a man like Viscount Elwynalam walked unexpectedly into the room. Her mind briefly flicked to Eriath, and she guiltily glanced down at the uncomposed message to him. He was handsome enough, but Viscount Elwynalam made her heart beat faster.

* * * * * *

The first rays of the approaching day faintly struggled through the curtains before Abaledina completed her weary task. She had spent much of the night thinking about the wrong man. At length, however, she had finished. She scrolled through it, checked to ensure she had entered Eriath’s direction correctly, and hit send, entrusting it to the ether. Then, she threw herself upon her silken bed and hoped no one would disturb her for at least five hours.

* * * * * *

Beritha was startled from her light slumber by the bing of a received message at an unusually early hour. When fully dressed with her usual carefulness, she seemed to be less than thirty years old. In the grey morning light, adorned in her coarse state of undress, she looked her age of forty-five. She was tall and possessed that kind of second-rate civility that arises from seeing but not mingling with genteel society. It was an artificial refinement that cloaked the vulgarity of her mind.

Her sharp features were not unpleasant. Her eyes displayed a thorough knowledge of the world’s wickedness. They were gray, restless, and piercing but could sometimes appear to take on a soft, flirtatious laziness. However, there existed a deep-rooted, cunning and selfishness beneath their faked cloak of frankness and simplicity.

With a smile of triumph, she quickly turned on her com-tab and began patiently to peruse its message. Mrs. Gillfillian had hired her as her personal assistant, but she was primarily hired for her unique talents. She was delighted that the young adults hadn’t yet detected her abilities but wondered why they never realized the filtering system installed by the Gillfillians was not one run by AI but one that sent all their emails to her instead of the intended recipient. She attributed it to her excellent writing skills.

However, after six years of deleting messages and sending different ones to keep Miss Abaledina and Master Eriath together was wearing on her. She noted the rewards for her interventions were becoming fewer and fewer. The rewards were also pushed forward to the marriage day when she was to receive a hundred-thousand-note of the heiress’ money for herself.

These self-important Gillfillians who employed her made her do all the work while they received all the gain. That irritated her. She had worked hard over the years to make this match occur, but she began to wonder if she would earn more money by revealing the plot to Abaledina instead of working secretly against her.

It did not take her long to see this message was like all the recent ones between the betrothed couple—professing the deepest of brotherly or sisterly affection, stating no feeling of true love existed, and requesting to be released from the obligation of marrying.

Initially, she joined this plot not only for the money but also because she judged it was right. She could not believe children these days thought they knew what marriage and love were about—so much so that they would spurn their parents’ choices. When she first heard of this match, she recognized how well it would improve the children’s positions. Adding Abaledina’s wealth to the business acumen of Eriath’s father would have created an empire.

Beritha was not a deaf or dumb servant, though. For the last four years, she had heard that Lieutenant Gillfillian’s luck had run out, and he was on the brink of financial ruin. Instead of making wise financial decisions as he once had done, he began gambling on risky ones. She could see the writing on the wall of a gambling addict. He just needed one more investment—the next one would be the one to gain it all back. He needed Abaledina’s fortune to fund the big one. Then, his riches would last—he believed. Beritha knew they would only last until he could run through the young orphan’s inheritance as well. She might not understand the ideals of love, but she did understand the ideals of money. She had begun to worry that once the marriage occurred, he would shortchange her to fund his compulsion. Although she still did not mind handing Abaledina’s fortune over to Mr. Gillfillian, she did mind handing hers over to him.

After reading the early morning message from Abaledina, she sat in thought until Mrs. Gillfillian’s notification summoned her. With the young ward’s message to Eriath open on her com-tab, she went to the luxurious dressing room to meet her mistress.

In Beritha’s opinion, Mrs. Gillfillian was lazy, extravagant, and ambitious. The first and the last of these were in a constant state of battle. To gratify the middle one, she descended to every malicious trickery that she thought she could perform without being caught. Her niece’s immense inheritance came from her mother, who had been Swienzean nobility. While Abledina’s father improved the inheritance by doing mercantile speculations with his brother, Mrs. Gillfillian burned through the Lieutenant’s share of the business—which she saw as her rightful money. Beritha had been with her long enough to know the inner workings of her employer’s mind. The lack of capital pushed her husband to pursue risky investments.

Accomplishing the union between her son and niece to offset her overspending was her prized scheme. Messages on both sides were intercepted, were read, and more affectionate ones were substituted. The purported sender repeatedly declared his or her all-engrossing passion. The sacredness of the pledge they made as mere children under exceptionally trying circumstances was constantly repeated to them.

By sending Eriath away to school, the Gillfillians had separated them for years. Without any way of having free, innocent conversations, Beritha’s messages mutually deceived them. Currently, each feared that withdrawing from the agreement would fatally wound the heart of the other. When they had a few moments alone together, guilt made them too slow to explain their real feelings, and Mrs. Gillfillian made sure they never had much time alone.

Beritha showed the message to Mrs. Gillfillian when she entered her dressing room.

“This must never go! It would ruin all our plans,” Mrs. Gillfillian declared after reading the message. “Thank you for intercepting it. You can have this bracelet for your service, but I’ll continue holding it temporarily. My daughter has one like it, and she might disapprove if she matched a servant.”

Beritha realized immediately this was yet another false gift. The heat of anger showed on her cheek, forcing her to turn from her employer to hide it. Her mistress continued looking at the message and saw nothing of her ire.

“Now that is settled, there are a thousand preparations to complete for our ball, which I can trust to no one but you.” Her mistress gave directions with the ease and nobility of one accustomed to being obeyed. Beritha remained sullen. She had not been well paid for her work—again. 

The full ebook is available HERE or check back tomorrow for the next chapter.

The Viscount of La Soutain (9)

 9

Samh 9.10.1342 18:00

 

Theodomani spoke of nothing but the best qualities of his lady love the entire way to her home. He explained how she had taken ill at the thought of his death and had only now recovered enough to receive visitors. Geodor found this all amusing and a bit overdramatic on the lady’s part, but he kept his mouth shut.

After their arrival, a servant led them into the main parlor, where two ladies focused on practicing their instruments. He immediately recognized Theodomani’s betrothed from the description he had received and the picture he had been shown. A slight paleness added to the delicacy of her complexion. Her luxuriant black hair was knotted in two buns atop her head, and a diamond-studded net covered each. Two thin strands of hair framed the sides of her face in delicate ringlets. She was tall and commanding with dignified movements and haughty gestures as she sat strumming a mini-harp. Geodor’s first impression was that she did not act as if she had just recovered from a horrible shock. Equally as clear was that she must have been a belle of the city and not only knew this fact but also reveled in it.

The woman at the electropiano was of much more interest to him. He knew she must be Abaledina—the humbler, orphaned cousin Theodomani had mentioned. She had chestnut-colored hair pulled back in a double French braid woven together into one braid at the ends. Although she sat straight, her fingers caressed the keys of her instrument. When she occasionally turned her head, he saw her eyes were closed as if she were enjoying the music instead of simply playing it.

The cousins dressed similarly, Jeanilotta in yellow and Abaledina in violet. Their leggings had contrasting thick black stripes running down the outside seams. Their short-sleeve, off-the-shoulder silk tops had geometric shapes on them. These covered a tank top made of natural, undyed silk lace with the same geometric patterns woven into it.

They finished their song, and Jeanilotta impatiently asked, “I wonder where Theodomani is today?”

“Here,” the man next to him said. “Allow me to present Viscount Elwynalam, the man who saved me from an unfortunate death on the moon.”

Jeanilotta laid aside her harp and stood with a grace that Geodor could tell was meant to exhibit her elegant figure to every advantage. She quickly crossed to him.

“I owe you much, sir, and must forever remain your debtor. You have preserved my life by saving that of my friend.” She dramatically held out a hand to him, her full black eyes swimming with tears. He clasped hers with both of his and gave her a smile and nod.

Although captivated and amused by this display, he observed the other young woman, who remained standing next to the electropiano. He detected a slight eye roll. He decided she might not be entirely as mild-mannered as Theodomani suggested.

Jeanilotta noticed she had lost his interest and added, “Permit me to present my cousin, my adopted sister, Abaledina.”

Abaledina gave a brief curtsy and flushed beautifully without making any effort to move from her post. He crossed the room and held out his hand. She took it timidly. He resisted the urge to bring it to his lips like some character in a cliched Earth romance. She met his eyes, and he flashed her his most rakish smile, causing the blush to deepen.

Jeanilotta grabbed his elbow and animatedly led him to a nearby sofa. After only a short while, Geodor realized she expected both him and Thoedomani to hang on her every word. Theodomani naturally gratified her wish, but he found himself faking his interest. Her vanity was clear and only tempered by her desire to be adored. He developed the impression that Jeanilotta wanted to charm him.

He glanced at Theodomani, childlike and adoring, as he feasted upon the heightened charms of his betrothed bride. There was no hint of jealousy—he was unaware of the guile in his lover’s eyes. Geodor smiled to himself. She would learn soon enough that he would not be a stepping stone for her next conquest.

His mind returned to the quieter cousin. Abaledina had been cast into the shade by Jeanilotta’s display but did not fight for his attention. She quietly worked her embroidery from a low window seat. Her sapphire blue eyes and more womanly figure had first captured his attention. Since she spent most of her time listening instead of participating, he found himself wanting to know more about her.

He often noticed the sweet smile that occasionally played about her mouth. Her eyes flicked up now and then, revealing her reactions to the topics discussed. This quiet expressiveness hinted at an inner strength and did more to raise her in his esteem than an hour of incessant talking could do.

“And what attraction was there to bring you to the moon, Viscount Elwynalam?” Jeanilotta asked when she noticed his eyes straying too long from her again.

“If I had known the attractions in this room, perhaps I would have vacationed here instead!” replied Geodor, looking her in the eye. “La Soutain is known for the beauty of its ladies, but I never hoped I would behold her two most lovely daughters in one parlor.”

“Reserve your admiration,” continued Jeanilotta, unaware he had skillfully avoided answering her question. “We hope to show you all the town’s beauties this week if you honor our Friday ball with your presence.”

Careful not to let his smile drop at the mention of a ball, he glanced at all three of them. Abaledina continued her needlework; Theodomani appeared to have just heard of it, and Jeanilotta looked at him expectantly. He assured himself that if this were the same ball the thugs had mentioned earlier, none of those present were aware of the connection.

“Please, forgive us the imposition,” Abaledina addressed him for the first time, misunderstanding his silence for reluctance to attend. “My aunt felt a ball would be the ideal way to celebrate Jeanilotta and Theodomani’s engagement as well as Theodomani’s safe return to us. Sometimes when she plans things for others, she doesn’t consider the participant’s feelings or schedule.”

“I would love to attend. It will give me a perfectly acceptable chance to dance with you if you are willing,” he replied, wondering what events her aunt had planned for her without considering her feelings.

He was rewarded with Abaledina’s beautiful blush.

“Perhaps you would also allow me to steal your betrothed for a dance,” he quickly added, turning to his new friend to take some of the focus off the unassuming girl. Theodomani agreed whole-heartedly and began a long-winded, impromptu ode on how well his betrothed danced. Jeanilotta shot a jealous look at Abaledina.

“Abaledina,” she said, interrupting Theodomani, her voice sweet and venomous, “you look sad tonight. Is it possible that the sudden departure of your betrothed, Eriath, is the cause? I didn’t think his absence had ever afflicted you thus before.” Turning to Geodor, she added, “I’m sure my brother wouldn’t mind you dancing with her in his absence.”

He scanned Abaledina’s countenance at the mention of her engagement and noticed a severe internal struggle.

“Yes, I, too, am betrothed,” she absentmindedly added.

Pushing aside her embroidery, she excused herself from the party, stating she had some correspondence to complete. Geodor puzzled over this response. Before Jeanilotta’s statement, Abaledina seemed happy and content, sitting quietly with them. It was mention of the fiancé that seemed to upset her. A slow smile crept across his face. Perhaps her betrothal was not the bliss Theodomani found in his—especially if her fiancé was frequently absent. He hoped to discover if her heart belonged to another at the ball.

The men stayed longer than was proper, but Abaledina presented him with a mystery—and he loved solving mysteries. 

The full ebook is available HERE or check back tomorrow for the next chapter.

The Viscount of La Soutain (8)

8

Samh 9.10.1342 10:00

 

On the sixth morning after his arrival home, Lobo opened the doors of Viscount Elwynalam’s and announced Mr. Theodomani Montrevor. With his usual dignity and grace, Geodor cordially greeted the stranger for whom he had risked his own life. There was no idle speech between them, though. He hoped this was the beginning of a true and sincere friendship.

Theodomani repeatedly expressed his gratitude during their discussion, and Geodor brushed him off with questions he had wanted to ask but did not have the time for on the shuttle home from the moon. They were so involved in good conversation that time glided by imperceptibly until dinner was announced. Geodor insisted his new friend stay. Their conversation continued into the dining room, where Geodor guided it to opinions on marriage. Here, Theodomani began to speak of his relationship with a woman named Jeanilotta.

Scarcely had Geodor dismissed the servants who had attended them during dinner when the doorbell rang repeatedly and violently. Soon, the sounds of an angry altercation reached them.

“Listen,” he said, “and you will hear how loyal my servants are.” The voices became louder, and the usually suppressed and monotonous replies of Lobo grew more and more distinct until the argument was heard without effort.

“I tell you,” said a voice Geodor did not recognize, “we have come to visit your master! Show us in at once!”

“I will not! Your names are not on the list, and no others are to be admitted. This is Viscount Elwynalam’s command.”

“Do you know who we are? We are doing him a favor by taking time out of our day to call on him.”

“Doubtless, sirs.”

“Then show us in—why delay?”

“I dare not disobey orders.”

“Do as we wish, and we will take any consequences for you.”

“I cannot.”

“You must.”

“I won’t.”

“Here is a fifty-note for your trouble.”

“Even if you offered me a thousand-note, I would not allow you to see him,” the calm voice responded, and Geodor smiled proudly.

The smile was quickly replaced with a frown as they heard a scuffle. Geodor walked toward the button to summon someone to aid Lobo, but before he pressed it, two men in plain black suits entered indiscriminately. He saw through the door that another two continued struggling in the hallway with Lobo, who got free, rushed into the dining room, and bowed to his master.

“Please, pardon me, sir. I did all I could,” he said, then stood and awaited further orders.

Theodomani had risen and stiffly observed the intruders. Geodor motioned for Theodomani to sit again.

“I wonder what crisis has caused these gentlemen to honor me with their intrusion upon a private party,” Geodor stated to Theodomani. Then turning to the interlopers, he asked, “Is there some emergency at the hospital and all forms of traditional communication were unavailable for whatever reason?”

At the sight of Geodor in person, the men had entirely changed their domineering boldness for an aspect of cringing servility and forgot to reply. Instead, they stared at him with impertinent curiosity as if to inhale in one breath a full dose of his noble character.

“I am awaiting your answer,” he prompted impatiently.

“Why do you keep such an unmannerly servant at your door?” one replied vehemently, rubbing a bruised hand and pointing to Lobo. “I told him we came to speak with you, but he refused to admit us. We aren’t accustomed to being treated like this,” he finished sulkily.

“In that case, one would think that you are only accustomed to dealing with awful servants. He correctly obeyed his orders,” Geodor replied with lofty contempt, “and will do so again. Lobo, show these gentlemen out. If need be, ring for assistance.”

Then, motioning to Theodomani, Geodor led him into another apartment as Lobo tossed open the door and bowed slightly, expecting the intruders to leave immediately at his master’s bidding. However, as soon as Geodor and his friend had entered the adjoining room, an alarm rang out, and five or six trained servants appeared as the visitors rushed into the apartment where Theodomani and he had gone. The servants followed them.

“Silence!” exclaimed Geodor, pulling a riflazer off the wall and aiming it at the intruders. Turning to Theodomani, he asked, “Mr. Montrevor, my friend, are you acquainted with these gentlemen?”

“They’re not my acquaintances,” replied Theodomani incredulously, “but I believe I recognize their faces and can inform you of their names.”

“My servant should have that from the security cameras and be able to fill out the report,” Viscount Elwynalam said. “Lobo. Marcellus.”

“Excuse us—I didn’t mean to insist upon a conference,” the man who had spoken earlier blubbered, “but we have not yet obeyed our instructions. There is to be a ball, and we were sent—”

“Sir, you remain here at risk of your own life,” Geodor interrupted, leveling the riflazar at the speaker’s heart. “This is my home, and it is my choice to allow entry only to those I wish. You have forced your way into it, assaulted my servants, and generally destroyed my evening. Take that response back to whomever sent you, but do it quickly. Your behavior is being reported to the authorities as we speak, and your freedom will not last much longer. Further, if you take one more step toward me or my guest, I’ll conclude you mean us bodily harm and take the appropriate action against you.”

With a glance of icy coldness and withering haughtiness, he continued his retreat with Theodomani further into his private apartments, maintaining the rifle sights upon the man nearest them. Once inside, he double locked the door to secure it.

“Gravy!” exclaimed Theodomani, blushing at the men’s poor behavior, “La Soutain has many noble souls, but for every man who has money, it seems only half have the manners that should go with it!”

“Don’t worry, my new friend,” Geodor replied gently. “It seems everywhere there are men with so much time on their hands that they don’t feel the least hesitation about making the most unjustifiable demands upon others’. La Soutain is not alone in harboring such individuals.”

Lobo’s face appeared on a com-tab hanging on the wall.

“They have gone, and peace has returned to the house,” he said with his typically unruffled demeanor.

“Bring the rest of our dessert in here lest another hospitality committee appear and attempt to gain an audience with me.”

“As you desire,” Lobo stated.

After finishing their dessert without further interruption, they agreed to visit Theodomani’s fiancée that night. He had mentioned she had a cousin living with her, and Geodor felt it was as good a time as any to begin his wife search. Although Theodomani had described the woman as mild-mannered and not his type, Geodor believed a mild-mannered woman was exactly what he needed. 

The full ebook is available HERE or check back tomorrow for the next chapter.

The Viscount of La Soutain (7)

7

Samh 9.05.1342 10:00

 

Abaledina’s cousin, Eriath Gillfillian, was a fine, generous twenty-five-year old. Nature had given him both intellect and common sense. However, Abaledina knew he also had a strong sense of imaginative romance, which she believed would keep him from forcing her into a loveless marriage with him.

When he arrived, he brushed her forehead with a chaste kiss, and Abaledina felt instinctively that the act stemmed only from fraternal love. For an instant, the anxiety lifted from her heart, and she moved quickly and merrily, her happiness complete.

“Your message preceded you by so short a time that we were not quite prepared for your arrival,” his mother said, visibly excited by the greeting they exchanged. Instantly, Abaledina’s brow saddened, and the color faded from her face. The thought that she was pledged to him in marriage should have brought joy and hope. Instead, it threw a cloud over her future life. Gradually, she retired from the conversation. After an hour, she went to her private room, telling Luna to ensure no one intruded.

She felt the loneliness of her situation intensely. Her uncle was kind, indulgent, and fatherly, but he adored his son and regarded their engagement as unbreakable. Approaching him about it only subjected her to claims that nothing could be done. One could never appeal about an affair of the heart to him because he believed romance was frivolity. He was not a hypocrite in this: Abaledina had never seen a hint of the emotion pass between her uncle and aunt.

Jeanilotta, playmate of her childhood and current companion, had a thousand reasons for desiring the union, so it did no good to appeal to her. Her aunt was deeply artful. Although she appeared on the surface smooth and complaisant, she possessed a mean, low talent for prying into the affairs of those around her and an insatiable desire to control their actions. Abaledina knew she would exert every influence—good or bad—to bring about the event.

Isolated from the sympathy she wished to receive from the two most prominent women in her life, she had only one to whom she could appeal. Taking a slip of paper, she wrote:

Eriath, please, visit me in my private den as soon as possible. Your company would greatly oblige me.

She rang for Luna and entrusted the note with a command to deliver it only to Eriath. Luna was artless and ignorant of all intrigue, but digital messages were prone to being intercepted by her aunt and uncle. Luna received both the note and command but did not seem to pay much attention to either.

Abaledina was slightly concerned about the maid’s lackadaisical attitude. When excessive time passed without word on whether or not the task had been accomplished, she worried the note never reached its intended recipient. She finally decided to find the maid, but upon opening the door to the hallway, she found Eriath standing there, preparing to knock. He followed her into the room in all politeness but with a hesitating step, which again boosted her spirits. She expected a lover to rush to his beloved rapidly.

“My mother said you wanted to see me?” he asked.

Abaledina was startled. Her maid had not been as careful about the note as she was instructed to be. Still, there was nothing to do about it now. She led her cousin into her private den, took her favorite seat, and pointed to a nearby chair for him.

“May I be permitted a hug before I sit?” he asked with a smile. At her assent, her head rested upon his shoulder, luxuriating in the confidence and friendship between them.

 “Forgive me,” she began tearfully after he sat down. “I have no other friend to guide me. I must confide to you something that I wish I could keep secret because I fear it will greatly upset you. I can’t pretend to misunderstand your message and must tell you my true feelings. For years—”

“Eriath! Eriath!” They heard Lieutenant Gillfillian’s loud, impatient tones and quick, heavy footsteps outside the sliding panel of the private den. Immediately, the young man jumped from his position. Opening the panel, he met his father, who appeared greatly disturbed.

“I sincerely regret interrupting your conversation, but I’m compelled to do so by urgent business. A message just reached me, informing me of the probable failure of the house of Wildon, Strong, and Company, in East Moumalt. I have considerable interest in this corporation, but I must remain here because of other equally pressing affairs. Therefore, you must go in my place and leave at once.”

Abaledina thought she could see Eriath’s chest puff with pride at his father’s request.

“With my greatest pleasure, I am entirely at your service,” her cousin replied.

“I appreciate your self-denial. I assure you that I’ll not soon forget it. Come. We have much to discuss and little time,” Lieutenant Gillfillian said, rushing into the hallway.

Without so much as a longing glance back, Eriath was out the door, following Lieutenant Gillfillian.

“Explain to me the details and tell me what you need me to do,” was the last she heard him say as he left her.

Abeladina decided perhaps it was for the best. Her words would not have come out well. She suspected it would be better to write out her feelings than speak openly to Eriath. She also felt a message would give him time to adjust to the situation before he needed to respond. Most importantly, she would not have to see the result of breaking his heart. 

The full ebook is available HERE or check back tomorrow for the next chapter.

The Viscount of La Soutain (6)

 6

Samh 9.05.1342 8:00

 

Geodor had slept well and had been up before dawn, heading to the capital of Anorraq, Tyrol City. Now, he sat in the anteroom of the castle palace, awaiting an audience with the Count of Anorraq.

“Ah, Viscount Elwynalam, what a pleasure to see you. I assume that from the mishap right before you returned home, your mission went well?” the Count asked after ushering him into his office, shutting and locking the door behind him.

“I suppose that depends on what you mean by ‘went well.’” The Count raised his eyebrows but made no response.

“Your information was correct,” Geodor continued after a moment. “The Xiepvuians have constructed a rather substantial base on the far side of our moon. I have no idea how they managed to do it, though.”

“Well, that’s rather simple,” the Count responded. “It’s not as if we live in a science fiction novel where some strange-looking alien creature inhabits every planet. Xiepvuians look just like us. I assume some have assimilated into our planetary population or they may have recruited Samhis loyal to Xiepvuian money or a combination of both. These people have taken a vacation to the moon to help work on the project. As soon as it had a stable launchpad and moonstation, they could have landed there directly.”

“I did find three people working at our moonstation who are involved,” Geodor said, handing him three paper files and a memory stick. “Unfortunately, time ran out before I could do much more than scratch the surface of what was going on. I estimate they have been working on this for over a year.”

“The biggest question is why?” Anorraq mused aloud.

“I have nothing solid, but I am pretty certain they need minerals.”

“But Thelxinoe V-1398 doesn’t have any resources. We already determined long ago that mining any of our moons would be useless—hence the reason they were allowed to become tourist attractions.”

“The moonstation isn’t set up for mining. It’s an outpost. A place to gather troops before an invasion.”

“You think they would dare to attack our planet directly?”

Geodor nodded. “Everything I uncovered points to that conclusion.”

“I will let Emperor Grangschmidt know at once. Unfortunately, we can’t inform the Sultan of Upsilon Andromedae and the Galactic Congress until we have additional, solid proof.”

“There is one more thing I wanted to discuss with you.”

“Go ahead.”

“When a person dies, I believe it is important to have a family, to carry on for them.”

“Really, Geodor? I didn’t expect you were the type of person to harass me about not being married.”

“I wasn’t talking about you. I want to find a wife. Almost dying up there made me realize that I have no one to take care of my sister if something happens to me.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to find a husband for her? Your lifestyle and positions are not exactly conducive to being entangled with someone.”

“Like you, I have my own ideals. Although I may end up in an arranged marriage of convenience, I would never force my sister into one!”

“Point taken. Find the girl and let us run the checks on her before you propose. The last thing we need is a fortune hunter getting ahold of you. It would be very challenging to keep all your secrets from your wife—even if it were only a marriage of convenience.”

With that, both men parted—each deep in thought about the problems before him.

The full ebook is available HERE or check back tomorrow for the next chapter.