You can read all four Bartleby and James mystery novellas in The Collected Bartleby and James Adventures.
Fancy something longer? March of the Cogsmen, the first Galvanic Century novel, features the wedding of Aldora Fiske and Alton Bartleby.
The footman led Alton Bartleby and James Wainwright from the drawing room towards the stairs.
"I say, Bartleby, you're drinking a good deal more than is typical," James said.
"Why so I am. How astute of you to notice."
"I'd say that the escapism is typical." The bride-to-be, Aldora Fiske, stood at the top of the stairs like a statue of white granite in her wedding gown, a cold and severe expression on her face, gazing down without passion at the men below her. "Whatever could you be hiding from, Alton?"
"Aldora, dear." Bartleby straightened up and ran fingers through his blond hair. "It's ill fortune to see the bride before the ceremony."
"It's worse luck yet to have the groom fall ill and vomit on the vicar."
"I've never gotten sick from drink." Bartleby held up a finger. "Not once!"
"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." White lace armlets framed Aldora's fingers as they slid along the banister. "Father may have not said anything, but he did notice. And he will remember."
"I can assure you that such mild intoxication shan't impair my ability to function in the slightest," Bartleby said.
"I'm sure you'll be as useful as ever. In fact, I've a task for you."
"Wonderful." Bartleby leaned against the wall. "Just what I need after a four-hour train trip to refresh myself before my wedding."
"After you've unpacked... and honestly, Alton, do freshen up a tad... I need you to go out to the grounds and greet the guests as they arrive."
"What?" Bartleby said. "Your servants will be out in force. Have Charles here do it."
"It's important, Alton. I've been trying to get you to go over the guest lists and seating arrangements for weeks, but you've been far too busy of late. Now, on the very day of our wedding, I'll need you to guide our guests to where they need to be and introduce them to whom they need to know."
"Won't your mother be--"
"You're the only one who can, Alton. Even half in the bottle, you've an instinctive grasp of people and their connections beyond any I've ever seen. You know how important this wedding is. It sets the tone for our partnership among our peers, and if we can manage to impress here we can largely ignore society and get on with the business of living our lives."
She paused, casting a glance away from the men, down the hall. "And mother is... unwell."
"Yes," Bartleby said quietly. "You're right, of course."
"And do stop drinking. You smell like a vintner."
"Yes, dear."
"There's a good lad." She tilted her head towards his partner. "James."
"Aldora. Is Xin Yan free? I'd like to say hello."
"Yes. She's with Penny in the playroom. Charles can show you the way once you're settled."
"Thank you."
Aldora stood and watched as Charles led her fiancée and his partner up the stairs, towards the guest rooms. She placed a hand on Bartleby's shoulder, stopping him as they passed.
"I can trust you to handle this, Alton? Please?"
Bartleby hesitated, looking into Aldora's eyes. Her expression hadn't changed, but something in it gave him pause, and the retort he'd prepared died on his lips. He gave a brief silent nod in its place.
"Thank you, Alton." She turned and walked away down the hall, her skirt's train making it seem like she was gliding.
Bartleby turned to his partner with a drunken smile, spreading his hands wide. "See? Bad luck."
About The Author
Though a prolific writer Michael Coorlim found the prospect and process of submission daunting, often preparing query letters and researching markets only to never get around to submitting any of his work. It wasn't until he reached his thirties that he took the steps to write professionally.
He currently lives in the city of Chicago with his girlfriend and their cat, living his life-long dream of supporting himself as an author of fast-paced character-driven fiction about authentic people in fantastic situations.
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And They Called Her Spider (Galvanic Century) Page 4