by Dean James
Tris laughed. “Millbank is a very shrewd businessman, Simon. He’s already approached the members of the planning commission, and he’s confident that getting approval won’t be a problem.”
“Very well,” I said, though I was uneasy about keeping this news from Giles and his mother. I knew they would be very unhappy about the scheme. “But what about the members of the G.A.A.? Surely some of the success of this scheme depends on their cooperation?”
“Yes,” Tris said. “It does. Tell me, Simon, do you have any idea what it is Luke does when he’s not prancing about, pretending to be a medieval nobleman?”
“Haven’t a clue,” I said, “though I suppose it’s some kind of business.”
“He’s a very successful restaurateur,” Tris said. “His family have been in the business for generations.”
“And so he’s in cahoots with Millbank to bring this all about,” I laughed. “It all becomes clear now. I’m sure Harald Knutson would be opposed to the idea if he knew, which is another reason that Luke wants to replace him as king of the G.AA. Am I right?”
Tris shrugged. “Very likely. Millbank despises Knutson, that I do know. Thinks he’s a complete idiot. But Luke has the experience he needs if he’s to make his restaurant scheme work.”
A loud yawn from behind Tris alerted us to Giles’s presence in the room. Waving his hand in front of his face to dissipate some of the pipe smoke Tris was emitting, Giles advanced farther into the room.
“What are you talking about, Simon? What restaurant scheme?” Giles yawned again.
I looked at Tris, and he merely shrugged. I took that as permission to tell Giles what Millbank had planned.
Briefly I outlined the proposed scheme. Giles’s face grew increasingly dark as I talked. “Bloody hell!” he said when I had finished. “Just what we need at Blitherington Hall. A bloody restaurant at our back door. Mummy will have a stroke.”
“So there is a positive side to it, Giles,” Tris drawled, deliberately offensive.
Giles ignored him. “Millbank assured us when we sold him the land that he intended to keep it undeveloped. This is intolerable!”
“I can understand your concern, Giles,” I told him, doing my best to calm him a bit. “But you might want to wait and talk with Millbank first, before you get too excited. See exactly what his plans entail, and if you foresee significant problems, talk to him about a compromise.”
Giles ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose you’re right, Simon, but I had better talk to him before Mummy gets wind of this. Maybe if I go back to the encampment now I might find him.” He turned as if to go.
“No,” Tris said, “you won’t find him there this afternoon. He was off to London for a meeting with one of his partners in the scheme. He won’t return until the evening.”
“Just as well,” I said. “That will give you time to think this over a bit, Giles. Besides, we have an invitation for dinner.” I told him about Totsye Titchmarsh’s call.
“Very well,” Giles said, his face evincing his worry. “Do you have anything for a headache, Simon? My head is pounding.” He rubbed the top of his head gingerly. “I had no idea that mead was so powerful.”
Trying not to smile, I directed him upstairs to the cabinet in the bathroom.
When he was out of earshot, Tris spoke again. “Don’t get his hopes up, Simon,” he advised me. “Millbank isn’t going to alter his plans a jot just because Giles and his mother raise a fuss. He’s a very determined little bugger.”
That will have to sort itself out,” I said, dismissing the problem for the moment. I had a deeper concern in mind. Tris, what are you going to do about Luke? Have you reconsidered my idea?”
Tris stood up. “Don’t worry, Simon. I will take care of the situation, and you needn’t concern yourself with it any longer.” He tapped out his pipe and stuck it in his jacket pocket. “I have an errand to run. I’ll meet you at the encampment in time for Miss Titchmarsh’s little soiree.”
With that, he walked out, and I sat there, staring into space and worrying.
CHAPTER TEN
Giles decided to remain with me at Laurel Cottage until it was time to leave for Totsye Titchmarsh’s dinner party. He wanted to delay having to talk to his mother as long as he could. Besides which, he was still feeling the effects of his hangover, despite the dose of aspirin. Between groaning over his aching head and mumbling over the perfidy of Millbank, he was rather miserable company. Finally, in exasperation, I gave him a few bits of research to do and sent him to his office while I attempted to focus once more on writing.
Without Tris in the cottage and with Giles at last occupied by something other than complaints, I applied myself to writing. By the time I emerged from the fifteenth century and the perils of Perdita, my latest heroine, it was after six o’clock. Shutting down the computer with a sigh, I got up and stretched muscles grown stiff from my having sat hunched over the keyboard for so long.
“Giles,” I called. “It’s time to get ready for dinner.”
Hearing no response, I walked out of my office to the next room, which served as Giles’s office space. It was actually little more than a glorified closet, but it was large enough for a desk, a computer, and a couple of shelves. Giles was sound asleep and snoring softly, his head cradled in his arms atop the desk.
I reached forward and gently shook him awake. “Giles, wake up,” I said. “Time to stir. We need to prepare ourselves for dinner.”
Giles sat up and turned around in his chair, rubbing his eyes like a schoolboy. I resisted the impulse to smooth the tousled hair back from his forehead. He smiled warmly at me as he came more fully awake. “What time is it, Simon? I’m sorry I fell asleep. I don’t think I got much work done.”
“That’s quite all right, Giles,” I said. “It’s a bit after six, and we’re supposed to show up for dinner at seven.”
Giles glanced down at his rumpled clothing. He groaned. “If I appear looking like this, Mummy will think I went on a bender for sure.”
I laughed. “Well, you did, in a way, Giles. Not much of one, but enough for you. Why don’t you run up and have a hot shower, and hang your clothes in the bathroom while you do it. The steam will get rid of some of the wrinkles, and you’ll feel much better yourself. ”
Grinning, Giles stood up. “A capital idea, Simon. I could do with a bit of freshening up, and a shower sounds jolly good.” He moved past me, then paused at the foot of the stairs, just outside his office door. “I don’t suppose you’d care to join me?”
I was sorely tempted, I must admit, but I knew that if I did, things might go too far too fast. Instead, I smiled and said, “Thank you, Giles. Perhaps another time.”
He didn’t sulk, as once he would have. Instead, he merely grinned again and said, “I’ll hold you to that, Simon.”
“Be off with you, varlet,” I said, and I watched him appreciatively as he moved up the stairs away from me.
I waited until he was safely in the shower with the water running before I too ascended the stairs. In my bedroom I changed back into my medieval clothing. Fully dressed, I surveyed myself critically in the mirror on the inside of one of the wardrobe doors. (Sorry to shatter the illusion, but, yes, we can see ourselves in the mirror. That we can’t was just a myth invented by Hollywood.)
Actually, I thought I looked quite dashing in the arcane clothing. The colors flattered my dark complexion, and when I assumed an austere mien, I appeared quite like a medieval nobleman. Then I laughed at myself. It wouldn’t do to take this dressing up too seriously. I couldn’t envisage myself becoming a regular member of the G.A.A., no matter how good I looked in this outfit.
By the time Giles reappeared downstairs, refreshed and ready to go, it was a few minutes before seven. We would arrive only a bit late. I let Giles drive us through the village, and we parked in the forecourt of Blitherington Hall. The late evening sunshine was still warm as we ambled down to the meadow toward the encampment. The sun wouldn’t set until ar
ound nine-thirty, but the intensity of the light had lessened, thankfully for me.
The guard posted at the entrance simply waved us through. I supposed he figured if we were dressed appropriately, we had legitimate business here, or else someone—Luke, probably—had put us on the list to be admitted freely.
All around us, the members of the G.A.A. were relaxing after a long day’s work. Here and there groups sang as they sat in front of their tents, quaffing beverages that would no doubt make them even merrier as the evening—and the drinking—wore on. As Giles and I turned down the lane leading to Totsye Titchmarsh’s pavilion, an ill-mannered brute brushed hard against Giles. He glared at Giles as if it were his fault, then stomped off.
The rag-mannered ruffian was none other than Sir Reginald Bolingbroke, erstwhile pretender to the throne. I resisted the urge to call after him. “Bloody idiot!” Giles said, rubbing his arm.
“Yes,” I said. “I wonder what put him in such a foul mood.” We continued our progress down the lane.
As we reached Totsye’s pavilion, Harald Knutson barreled out, straight into me. Close on his heels was one of his henchmen, the one called Guillaume. Knutson glowered at me. “Get out of my bloody way,” he barked.
“Why don’t you watch where you’re going, you prat.” Giles was angry now and spoiling for a fight.
Knutson paid no attention and strode off down the lane, his companion right behind him.
“What is wrong with these people?” Giles shook his head.
“Perhaps they equate living in the Middle Ages to acting in a boorish manner,” I said. “After you, young sir.” Giles grinned and stepped into the pavilion.
Inside stood a large table, set to accommodate eight and lit with candles. Totsye was scurrying about, setting pewter cups at each place. A young woman dressed as a servant was carefully placing what looked like pastries at each place.
“Good evening, Dame Alysoun,” I said loudly, and Totsye paused in her work to beam a smile of greeting upon us. She set the last cup at one end of the table and came forward with outstretched hands.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” she said. “I am delighted that you could join us tonight.”
“Thank you for inviting us,” Giles said, doffing his hat and bowing.
She tittered with delight as she curtsied in return.
“Your mother will be most impressed, Sir Giles,” she said, a little breathless from merriment.
“Has my mother arrived yet?” Giles asked.
“Oh, yes,” Totsye said. “She’s here, in the other chamber of the tent. She’ll be out in a moment.” She turned to check on her serving girl and nodded her approval. The girl curtsied, then disappeared into the back of the tent.
I turned to grin at Giles. Evidently Totsye had prevailed upon her old school chum to dress up, too. The thought of Lady Prunella garbed as a medieval lady amused us both.
“We ran into the king as we arrived,” I said. “He seemed to be in quite a hurry.”
Totsye snorted. “I should think so. I put a flea in his ear. As if I would switch allegiances, especially after he accused me of attacking him earlier today. He’s quite deluded, poor man.” Then she smiled. “I seem to be quite popular tonight. Not only Harald, but poor Reggie Bolingbroke as well, one right after the other. Both petitioning me. I must have more influence than I thought.”
Evidently Totsye had sent Reggie away with his own flea, which explained his ill humor. Such drama!
While we waited for Lady Prunella to appear, I stepped forward to examine ornate cards laid at each place at the table. I picked one up, because the writing was too cramped to read without holding the card closer.
Adele de Montfort’s name was inscribed across the top of the card, in spiky calligraphy. Below the name was tonight’s menu. I frowned as I read. This would be a rich meal, and I would have to nibble carefully. It doesn’t take much food for a vampire to feel stuffed, and I would have to take care not to offend my hostess. Tonight we would be offered:
LAMB STEW BRAISED SPRING GREENS MUSHROOM PASTIES HADDOCK IN TASTY SAUCE FRIED FIG PASTRIES ALMOND MILK MEAD
“Quite an impressive menu, Dame Alysoun,” I commented, setting the card back in its place. “You must have been working all afternoon to prepare such a feast.” At each place was a small dish of pastries, two each per person. The fried fig pastries, I cleverly deduced.
“I’m very fond of cooking,” Totsye said, smiling, “but I can’t claim credit for having prepared everything for tonight’s festivities. I must confess that I ordered some of the dishes from one of the best cooks in our society.”
“Let me guess,” Giles said, frowning a bit. “The person who cooked this is no doubt someone who would be working in the restaurant that Millbank is planning to build here.”
“Why, yes, very possibly,” Totsye said, startled. “But how did you know about that?”
“I’m afraid the secret is out, Dame Alysoun,” I said. “Professor Lovelace let it slip earlier today when we were chatting. You’ll find that Lady Prunella and Sir Giles are not keen on having a restaurant in their back garden, as it were.”
Totsye’s face mirrored her considerable distress at this news. She held out a hand impulsively to Giles. “My dear boy, I had no idea you would find the plan so repugnant.” She frowned. “In fact I would swear that Murdo Millbank told me you and dear Prunella had been apprised of the plan and were not in the least bothered by it.”
“Then Millbank has misled you completely,” Giles said, taking her hand and patting it.
“Oh, dear, oh, dear,” she said. “Prunella will never speak to me again.”
That was of course the cue for Lady Prunella’s entrance.
“Why shouldn’t I speak to you, Totsye dear?” Lady Prunella trumpeted. “Good evening, Giles, Simon. My, how positively medieval you both look tonight.”
“And you as well, Lady Prunella,” I said, sweeping forward into an extravagant bow. She giggled and grasped the skirts of her substantial houppelande in her hands and almost pranced about with glee. She was like a giddy schoolgirl going to her first grown-up party.
“Mother, you do look lovely tonight,” Giles said. “Your dress is most becoming.” This was no mere filial flattery, I noted. The deep claret of the houppelande, trimmed with black silk, highlighted the vivid coloring in Lady Prunella’s hair and cheeks. A simple headdress complemented her robe, and she could easily have taken her place at the royal court.
“Thank you, dear boy,” she said. “How handsome you both look. And what a handsome couple.” She tittered.
I glanced at Giles, who turned an innocent gaze to meet mine. What had he been telling his mother?
“Certes, milady, you do us both great honor,” I said, offering her another bow.
Once she had recovered from her merriment, Lady Prunella turned once more to Totsye. “Totsye, my dear, why shouldn’t I speak to you? Have you done something naughty?”
Totsye twitched about, refusing to meet Lady Prunella’s eye. “Now, Prunie,” she said, and Giles and I avoided looking at each other, “please don’t be angry with me. It’s none of my doing, I assure you, and had I known the truth about how you feel, I would never have encouraged the idea.”
“What idea?” Lady Prunella said, all trace of amusement gone. She had assumed her fiercest lady-of-the-manor glare, and Totsye withered from it Giles laid a warning hand on his mother’s arm.
“Now, Mummy, do think of your blood pressure. It won’t do to upset yourself.” He paused for a long breath, and Lady Prunella made a visible effort to calm herself. Giles continued, “Murdo Millbank is planning to build a restaurant here, a sort of medieval banqueting hall.”
Lady Prunella blinked rapidly as her mind struggled to cope with the news. Finally she found her voice again. “That’s outrageous! A commercial establishment in our back garden. Preposterous! What is the man thinking?”
“Oh, Prunie, I’m sorry,” Totsye wailed.
“Nonsense,
Totsye,” Lady Prunella replied. “It’s not your fault that that vulgar businessman wants to destroy our peace and quiet.”
“I beg your pardon,” came a huffy voice from behind us.
We all turned to behold Murdo Millbank, simply dressed in a peasant’s tunic and cap. I was mildly surprised, for I would have expected him to choose something more ornate and lordly.
Before anyone could respond to him, Luke and Adele de Montfort arrived, and Millbank stepped aside to allow them entrance to the pavilion. The siblings sported extravagant richly colored garments suitable for the most important of state occasions, making the rest of us feel sadly underdressed.
“Good evening, everyone,” Luke said, echoed by his sister.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” Totsye said, dipping into a curtsey. Lady Prunella stared at him, open-mouthed. He did cut an imposing figure, not to say a very handsome one. Lady Prunella was ever one to appreciate a handsome man, and evidently she had not laid eyes on the would-be king before now.
Giles watched his mother in amusement, then before the pause could grow more awkward, he stepped forward to introduce her to the duke and his sister.
Lady Prunella, the complete snob, could not resist a duke, even a make-believe one, and simpered accordingly as Luke clasped her hand. Her curtsey was so deep she almost went on down to the ground, but Luke held on to her hand as she righted herself, blushing mightily.
Millbank had waited impatiently until the social niceties were observed. Now he pushed himself forward. “What were you saying as I arrived, Lady Prunella?”
“You common little man,” she said, all thoughts of flirting with the duke pushed out her head by her anger, “how dare you spoil the area around my home with your vulgar commercial enterprise. It’s bad enough having hundreds of people capering about, attracting all sorts of undesirable elements, but the thought of a business in my back garden! It’s insupportable.”
Millbank had taken a step backward, as if to shield himself from Lady Prunella’s verbal assault, but he found his voice again. “Now just a bloody minute!”
