by A. R. Rend
Pushing on his relationship, Phillip was doing all he could to reinforce to the sheriff that this was a lost cause. That coming after him would only get herself in more trouble. To draw the ire of both the Rias and the Curis family.
“Was there something else?” Phillip asked when the sheriff didn’t immediately respond to that.
There was no surprise on her face when he relayed what she’d wanted him to do. Which meant she already knew of it, or Fend had done it previously and had a record.
In either situation, Phillip was certainly now glad for the mental preparations he had given himself.
“You didn’t order her killed?” demanded the sheriff, putting her hands on her hips.
“No, I didn’t. There was no reason to,” admitted Phillip. “There’s nothing she can do to actually stop my sales, or corner the market.
“For all intents and purposes, she was a toothless threat that wanted something she wasn’t going to have. Beneath my notice, outside of my concern, and certainly not a problem. Now, if there’s nothing else, I’m going to go see my distributer. You can have my guards sent back here, sheriff.”
To Phillip, talking in such a way felt incredibly strange. This was so far outside of his normal behavior and disposition that he felt like an absolute fraud.
Gazing at him for several more seconds, the sheriff inclined her head once, and then left. No servants were called to escort her out, and Phillip offered nothing on her departure.
Mildred got up and followed, seemingly wanting to make sure they left.
Two minutes later Mildred returned, coming to a stop in front of Phillip.
“Have they left?” he asked, his voice a little tight in his ears.
“Yes, they’re gone,” she said, watching him.
“Oh thank heavens,” said Phillip with an anxiety-filled chuckle, followed by a full-body shudder and a shake of his head. “Today… today isn’t my day.”
“It’s… definitely one of the more colorful days,” Mildred allowed. “Now that that’s passed… are you alright?”
Phillip had to think on that question.
Really think on it.
He knew that realistically he should be feeling horrible with himself. Having taken Fend’s life, he should fee the stain of killing someone on his hands.
Except he didn’t feel horrible.
He didn’t feel bad.
If he was being completely honest with himself, he felt vindicated. That it really was in self defense and he hadn’t done anything wrong. Not feeling much of anything felt more abnormal to him at the moment, than the idea of killing Fend.
“Yeah,” Phillip said after a long and heavy pause. “I feel more guilty at feeling nothing, than I do for the action.”
Mildred looked like she was digesting that. For several seconds she stood there just staring at him.
With a sudden nod of her head she let out a short breath.
“She was the enemy. Not a questionable enemy. Not a soldier opposing you for the sake of their masters,” said Mildred carefully. “But a true enemy. One who wronged you and would wrong you.
“What you’re feeling is right for the situation. You haven’t lost who you are, but you’ll likely feel the weight of it later. At night. When you’re trying to sleep.”
Unable to doubt her words, because Phillip imagined Mildred felt them herself and spoke from experience, he nodded his head in agreement.
“Could… you go get them?” Phillip asked, meeting Mildred’s eyes again. “I don’t want Bobbie, Tonie, Vinnie, and Frankie in there any longer than they have to be. You work for my mother as well. You could easily push the issue.
“There’s no way I’m going to the jail, though. That’s just putting myself into an enemy’s hand. Again. I’ve learned my lesson.”
Smiling at that, Mildred ducked her head formally to him.
“On your order, Phil. I’ll go retrieve the girls,” Mildred said before turning on her heel and leaving him there.
Left alone, Phillip found himself staring at his boots.
They were a lesser pair, not the ones he preferred.
Although… I’m sure those boots are gone now. Likely burned up by Mildred’s all-encompassing protective nature.
Hopefully this is over.
But… I feel like… it isn’t. Like those who called Fend a friend or co-conspirator will come for me.
I must prepare.
Twenty-Three
Once his guards were returned, safe and sound, Phillip went right back out into the city.
He needed to be on hand to sell the spinning-wheels. In any way he could.
If that meant helping sales just by him standing nearby at the location, looking handsome, offering smiles and warm words, he’d do it. Salesmanship of that type wasn’t that hard.
Because he, Mim, Mildred, and Lenore, needed this to work. To sell.
To go completely out of stock and force Madeline into a race to make ever more. But this time, with helpers. A large number of helpers could be hired after the first batch.
It wouldn’t be a secret anymore.
There was no alternative here. Far too much money was invested in this to let it go.
What they made on the one-wheeled carts to Alice simply wasn’t enough. They’d made money for certain, but there was no way it could offset their investment in the wheel upgrade.
“That’s right,” Phillip agreed with a smile and a nod of his head. “My friends Lenore Rias and Sophia Lane got all this up and running. It’s all rather impressive, I’m not really sure of the details.
“They’re not here at the moment so I’m just stepping in to help out. Well… kind of help out. I’m afraid I’m not that much use here.”
Phillip paused to reach out with his hand and touch the young woman’s forearm. With an excited sound, Phillip partially leaned toward the young woman he was talking to.
“Oh! Did you see the blue ones by the way? I admit that the color really doesn’t actually add anything but I found to be lovely. I mean, who paints a spinning wheel except a bold seamstress who wants to show off a bit? Someone as pretty as you are probably doesn’t need to, though,” he declared in an amused tone, letting his hand fall away from her arm.
She’d shown up a few minutes ago to look at the new wheels. Apparently she was the daughter of a noble and she was interested in making her own thread.
For what reason, Phillip had no idea, or even if she was being honest.
All he cared about was selling her a wheel.
Her light-blue eyes and brown hair that was pulled back from her face gave her an open appearance. She was also probably just a bit younger than he himself.
That wouldn’t dissuade him from getting her to make a purchase though.
“But that’s just me,” Phillip conceded as the young woman smiled back at him. Slowly, she leaned forward toward him, clearly angling to get closer. Laughing, he stood upright again and waved a hand at her as if it were a natural movement. “Maybe I’m just being silly. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“No! No. Not at all. I completely agree with you,” said the woman, still leaning forward. “I think you’re absolutely right. I’ll go get the blue one.”
Laughing, Phillip nodded his head and then reached out to brush his fingers against the woman’s shoulder.
“Aww, thanks! I really appreciate that. You’ll have to show me what you come up with later on,” enthused Phillip. “With those lovely hands of yours I bet it’ll come out great.”
Phillip wasn’t sure about this woman, but he knew in general that they responded very well to compliments. His sisters had often lost their ability to speak when complimented by men.
Immediately followed by the belief that the man was interested in them. So starved for compliments were they that they latched onto anything given to them.
The woman nodded her head a little bit and slowly walked away toward the counter Madeline was at. Watching Phillip nearly the entire way as
she went.
There was thankfully no one immediately around him waiting to chat him up. Though no small number of women gave him a look or three as they walked by.
“I think… I think I just realized somethin’,” mumbled Bobbie from his right. “You’re being absolutely honest with us dark horse girls. You could’ve sweet talked us all in your bed in a flash.”
“You’re only just now realizing that?” Tonie said with a laugh. “I’ve wanted to lick the sweat off him since I saw him, not for just how he looks either.”
“Talked me out of my drawers and I wasn’t even the one getting any of the compliments today,” admitted Vinnie.
“Out of’em? He owns mine. And what’s in’em. Freakin’ Dread shows up and, ‘Phillip Curis grandson of some-bitch wants his guards. And now. Otherwise he’ll go to the fuckface countess in charge’. And I’m the woman he’s demanding to be released? No one would ever go to the countess for me,” Frankie countered. “Phil would. So… yeah.”
“And I stand by it,” said Phillip clearly. “If that stupid sheriff hadn’t done what I told, I would’ve gone to the countess. Regardless of anything else, that sheriff certainly wasn’t going to be allowed to keep you.”
A teenager practically tripped over herself as she stared at Phillip. Stared at him so hard he felt like he was like something on display.
He only smiled at her and waved a hand, his fingers wiggling back and forth.
I’m not that good-looking, am I?
“Ugh, that’s awful,” Frankie muttered with a laugh. “That poor girl. She won’t ever forget that moment. She’ll be up late at night remembering how she tripped in front of an extremely good-lookin’ guy.”
Passing by slowly, a woman looked at Phillip for a second before her eyes latched onto the spinning wheels.
“It’s a new technology,” Phillip said as if pulling her unspoken question from her eyes. “It lets you use your hands freely, even as it spins.”
That got the woman’s attention.
She paused in mid-step, her eyes having moved back to Phillip.
“As it spins?” she asked, turning her body partway back to him after having passed.
“Exactly! Miss Madeline came up with the idea. One uses their foot to move the wheel, allowing the miss to use both hands freely,” explained Phillip. “I personally have no experience, but my understanding is this makes the work go much quicker.”
From what he knew this was all true. Extremely so since the vast majority of those who worked in with fabrics in the city did their own thread. Their own special dyes and blends as “secret formulas”.
Phillip suspected that was a bunch of poppy cock and that someone in a guild somewhere just didn’t want to pay another guild. If he was a betting man, a specific person was hired to make the thread, in shop, while someone else in the shop did the fabric and clothier work.
Pursing her lips, the woman seemed to be contemplating the product.
“Miss Madeline hand-crafted each and every spinning wheel and added that technology personally,” said Phillip, skirting the truth a bit. It wasn’t true she’d made all the new pieces herself, but she had assembled them personally. “In her own workshop, sponsored by the Rias and Lane families.”
That got the woman’s attention, her eyebrows raising slightly at that. Then she ignored Phillip and went straight into the display to look at a spinning wheel.
Smothering a sigh, Phillip only smiled and looked back to those passing by again.
He recognized the woman’s hesitation.
It wasn’t strange for her to worry that the work had been done by a man, like Phillip, given he was standing out front. There were any number of women who simply didn’t trust work done by a man and would second guess it. Check it for themselves.
Or demand a woman verify the integrity or value of the item.
Such is life.
***
Walking into the Rias household, Phillip was quite glad to be home. Once the door shut behind him, he felt better. Taking a detour to the mud-room, Phillip wanted to clean up a bit rather than track the filth of the city through the house.
After being out for most of the day, not to mention having killed someone, he was feeling empty. That he was emotionally, physically, and mentally drained and had nothing left to give anyone.
In the first day, they’d nearly sold their entire stock of wheels.
Given what those buyers would report to others, it was very likely the rest of the wheels would be gone within the week.
Which meant Madeline was already taking all the money she’d earned and was re-investing it back into making more wheels. Though she had made a deliberate repayment of a large portion of what she owed her sponsors.
Or more directly, Lenore, Mildred, Mim, and Phillip.
Since money would come in and go out with far more regularity, Madeline seemed to feel confident in the situation. She would no longer be making product with no sale date.
“Well, that went quite well,” Mildred declared, turning to face Phillip. “The day started… oddly… but it definitely turned itself around.”
“Ha. I thought I was going to end up in prison forever,” Vinnie said with a laugh as she picked up a piece of cast-off bronze and started scraping filth from the bottom of her boots. “In fact, hey, Phil, you wanna hop in a bed with me? I just got out of prison and I ain’t seen a man in years.”
Laughing at that, Phillip was going through a similar removal process of his own boots.
“Yeah, Vinnie. Let’s do that. I’ll even pull your hair till you bend backward,” said Phillip with a snort. “But you’ll have to wait. Put that away with that rain-check on the other… thing.”
“Oh, sure, uh huh. By the time I’m allowed to collect I don’t think you’ll have the stamina to cash them out,” complained Vinnie.
“You’re right. Add another rain-check as interest. I’ll let you get on top for that one,” Phillip said in a serious tone as if he were bartering over a price.
“You’re such a shit,” Tonie said and then slapped Phillip on the back of his shoulder with a chuckle. “I demand to be given any rain-check she gets, as well.”
“Fine, fine. If I promise any of you dark-horse girls a rain check it’s for all of you,” Phillip said in a magnanimous tone.
Considering his rain-checks for them would never be cashed, everyone was well aware that it was like promising a mountain.
Which everyone clearly knew since they all broke into laughter.
Even Mildred was laughing.
A firm and hard knock at the door quieted everyone.
Frowning, Mildred looked back the way they came. With a casual move of her hand, she withdrew the short-sword she kept at the small of her back and then went to the door.
Phillip edged over toward the entrance of the mud-room to see what was happening.
“-order of the countess,” stated a woman’s voice in clear crisp tones.
“You may present me with the document,” Mildred declared, holding out her left hand to the person at the door. Her right hand, however, held up her short-sword. It was a clear alternative she was offering them if they didn’t comply with her request.
“Ah… yes,” said the person who’d spoken. A hand came into view and handed a piece of paper over into Mildred’s open hand.
Swift and sure, she flicked the paper with her wrist, forcing it to stand upright despite its folds. Her eyes moved back and forth as she read the paper.
“I see,” she said then looked to the person at the door. “You will remain there while I present this document. Do you understand?”
“Yes… Miss Dread,” said the voice. Mildred was more widely known than Phillip had suspected.
Saying nothing more, Mildred shut the door and then came over to him.
“The sheriff apparently was able to talk the countess into signing a writ for your arrest on the grounds of murder,” Mildred murmured, holding the paper out to him.
Arrest… me?
Feeling his eyes widen and his heart skip a beat, Phillip took the paper from her and began to read it over.
It was exactly what she said.
He was being formally arrested under suspicion of murder with the intent to investigate him and determine his guilt. That he would be held an indeterminate amount of time until his guilt could be completely ascertained.
Or more directly quoted, “until such a time as he confesses to the murder of guild mistress Fend.”
I see.
In other words, they will interrogate me, likely hurt me, and possibly torture me, until I admit to killing her. At which point they’ll force me to sign something and that’ll be it.
“Well. We shouldn’t keep them waiting,” Phillip said and shook his head. Taking everything of worth out of his pockets, off himself, and off his person, he piled it up on a bench nearby.
“We could kill them and escape,” Tonie said with violence in her voice.
“We could, yes,” Phillip agreed, checking through everything on his person. Anything he took with him he wasn’t likely to get back. “But then it’d be a mess when the others got home. No. I made this swamp with my own poor decision-making. I shall wade through it and come out the other side.”
In his head he was going over everything he knew about prisoners of war. What his mother and sisters had said about them, what had been done, and what to expect.
The least of which was he would very likely be forced to take a stimulant and then raped.
Grimacing at the thought, he only shook his head. He wanted no part of that what-so-ever, but he had to prepare himself for the possibility.
To try and build up a shield in his mind to what could very likely happen.
“Manage the household. Keep it running. Work with Madeline on the wheels and decline all other meeting requests. Should anyone try to push, press, or change an agreement, write it down,” said Phillip. “And make sure they know that Alice or Mim will deal with them when they get back. That tends to slow them down.”