Joy V. Sheridan writes

Charity Amour

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX part 4

LATER THAT EVENING

“I cannot believe that I hold in my hands now, signed, sealed and in my possession, this one essential key to fulfill all my wildest dreams. Not to mention,” Lord Rispian smiled somewhat innocuously to where Natalie d’Esprit sat, her hands outstretched over a blazing fire, her feet in a wooden circular bowl of hot water, “Unspeakable riches!” She sneezed and raised her face towards where he stood afront the fire-place, just leaving her sufficient room to keep herself warm. “Does this mean, dear Lordship, that we can very soon be away from these frigid environs?”

“It most assuredly does, dear lady, just as soon as the handiwork has been done, to stitch a new, blood-red cravat around cousin Seymour’s unsuspecting throat. Would that he knew it, but he’s a dead man already, and see,” he slammed his flattened fingers against the parchment, “It is signed and sealed as such, in this!” 

“What - is the business not concluded yet then, your lordship? Surely, that is almighty dangerous? For us, for you, I mean? I should have thought that late afternoon, under cover of early dark, would have been about the right time.” “Ah, so would I, my love, so would I. But we cannot locate them. Seems they have abandoned their lodgings for the time being.” This remark made Madame redden, first with anger, then her face blanched white with fear.

“Let us hope that the party can be found soon. There are some in Bordeaux who must know him and would recognise him. It would seem more than a trifle strange if a corpse should be seen to be very much alive! Oh, I know that Sir Mortimore is sworn to secrecy yet. Still, Fitzi, I like it not!” 

Lord Rispian, fired with bravado and flushed with excellent port, smiled down upon Madame d’Esprit. “Don't you worry your beautiful head about anything, Madame; he is just about done for now, let me assure you. They are right skillful villans, my two, and we shall soon be safely en route for Angleterre. Aren’t you glad of that, my sweetling?” “If you say so, I must be.” She bit her tongue. His good lordship might very well be on the way to England, but she had plans other than those he propounded. She tried smiling at him. It was a thin, tin-like smile, punctuated with a punch of vicious sneezing - “Drat this cold!” “Here, let me fetch you some brandy, Nat, that should help a little.” 

Lord Rispian’s genial and solicitous mood was in complete contrast to his previous brusqueness. How the thought of assured riches will humour a soul, mused Madame. She accepted the large glassful of brandy which he offered her, a thought even then beginning to cloud her vision: “By the by, Fitzi, what do you suppose has become of your wench, Charity...?” 

“Ah, Charity! Yes, Charity! That scrumptuous piece!” He reverted to his former position, his corpulent backside to the fire. “Who can say, my love? Perhaps she is even now upon the arm of some ardent ‘Justice Party’ man. That is, if she has not perished, I truly don’t know and to be quite blunt, I really don’t give a jolt.” 

Madame d’Esprit was herself jolted by the flippant tones in his voice: as though she had been but a piece of paper, ushered to light a wick, and thence was discarded as being without further worth to his lordship. “You are a trifle callous, dear Fitzi.” “Coming from you, Madame,” he laughed lowly, “I take that to be an exceedingly flattering compliment.”

“Yes,” she grinned, “it was!” She swallowed more of her drink, in the meantime staring at some point beneath her spread-eagled but wonderfully relaxed and warmed feet, “I wonder.” 

“Wonder what, Madame?” “You don't think your cousin, I mean, Lord Clover, has her, do you?” 

“It’s slightly conceivable I suppose, seeing as she was the sprat which helped me to land the mackerel ...” “Nearly.” Lord Rispian chose not to hear that remark. "So, what if he has her? The stupid, love-blind fool! More’n likely she'd only hamper his better judgment anyway.” Madame smiled: “It is rather nice to think of her keeping company with a gentleman of quality. Yes, yes! If only for a brief span. I hate the thought of that beauty being roughened between black-haired, calloused hands.” 

Lord Rispian gave her a narrow-eyed, hard look. She sensed his curious gaze and added: “What the dickens! A banana's always a banana in the dark!” She laughed lewdly and Lord Rispian shared her mirth. “You know, Nat, I could try another way to ease that cold of yours ...” “You could?” “Let me try.” “Well, where would you start?”

Lord Rispian was on his knees before Madame’s seated form, avoiding the water bowl, “How about here?” He was already in the process of lifting her skirts from off her knees and was pushing them further back, exposing her sinewy, energetic thighs. “I’ll try anything at all to move this dratted nusiance of a cold.” She smiled with feline satisfaction as His Lordship’s sturdy wet tongue went to work.