by B. K. Parent
“How many ingredients were you expecting to taste in the soup?” Da inquired.
“Four, at the least. Two earthy flavors and two a bit more floral. It would seem, however, that this soup is much more flavorful than I expected,” I said, as two more folks were escorted into the room and seated.
I heard Lady Farcroft, the woman I thought of as Lady Henrietta’s bane, say, “Good, we are all here. Let’s enjoy a fine meal and then to business after.”
“Interesting,” Da said thoughtfully.
“Did you recognize any of the ingredients?” I asked.
“I am certainly not as knowledgeable as you when it comes to herbs and spices, but I did detect one that was quite unexpected.”
Our conversation took a short break as the soup bowls were taken from in front of us and the first course was placed before us. It was a duck dish, but served in a way I had never thought to prepare it. Shredded duck wrapped in bacon served with a cranberry relish and some flavorful greens, which had a light amount of oil and vinegar drizzled on top. I had often wondered how folks could get through a seven or eight course meal, but now I realized that the courses were small. How the food looked on the plate was as much a part of each course as the food itself. I could just see me doing this while on the road, cooking over a fire. Well, perhaps not. I had to keep myself from laughing out loud as I thought about whether my artistic arrangement of campfire stew in a wooden bowl would be elegant.
As we ate, I know both Da and I tried to listen to the conversation from the other table in the room. We caught snatches of it, but it was pretty general, concerning how the roads were and about the weather. It was so hard to carry on a conversation with Da, who was so familiar and yet a stranger in his disguise as my uncle. The next few courses were equally delicious; sea bass with a butter and dill sauce on rice pilaf, lamb chop with mint jelly, and new baby potatoes with parsley. I was beginning to feel a bit guilty eating such rich and expensive fare, considering what most of the folk I knew would be eating this night.
The server had just cleared the lamb course away when a gentleman from the next table got up and in the process knocked over Lady Farcroft’s evening bag, causing the contents to spill. The gentleman made a great show of apologizing and helping to pick up the contents. As I shifted in my seat and moved my feet to get more comfortable, I felt something under the sole of my left foot. Not wanting to call attention to our table, I decided to do nothing right then. The gentleman who had knocked over the evening bag then straightened and walked past us. He was a tall younger man, fair of hair with startlingly blue eyes, dressed in a higher fashion than his fellow male companions. Da had a strange look on his face as the young man walked by, which was quickly gone, and I wondered if I had imagined it.
The smell coming from the plate set in front of me drew my eyes back to the table, and I saw a slice of meat wrapped in the most delicate pastry I had ever seen. Both the meat and the pastry melted in my mouth. I thought I really should eat this as slowly as possible so the experience would last a long time. Da had grown quiet too, but I do not think that was because of the beef course. I wondered if he knew the younger man, who at that moment walked back in and appeared to snag the leg of a chair set at the empty table across from us, bumping our table in the process.
“I beg your pardon, my good fellow, miss. I shall have to drink less of the fine wine they are serving. Here, let me straighten up the bread basket I seem to have knocked askew. Again, your pardon,” he said, as he deftly slipped under the bread basket something from the hand he had been holding at his side, the side away from his tablemates. He then walked unsteadily back to his own table.
Da then stood, placing his napkin on the table next to the bread basket, and straightened his jacket, remarking he was going to have to get a bigger waistcoat should we eat like this every night. He then gave a fine theatrical groan as he sat down once again and put his napkin back on his lap, remarking that he was not sure where he would put dessert. I noticed that whatever had been under the bread basket was no longer there.
At this point, I could only agree with Da that I too was not sure where I would put dessert. I was also regretting tying the laces of this dress so tight. I did not think that a proper lady would stand up and loosen them in the middle of a meal, so I was just going to have to suffer. I could still feel the object under my foot, and I was trying to figure out how I could retrieve it. I thought dropping my napkin might work, but with the servers so attentive, one of them would probably be there to pick it up before I could reach down, which would have been an embarrassing and difficult task in this dress anyway. It was then that I realized I had walking slippers on, and not my normal boots. Perhaps I could maneuver the object, which felt small, into my slipper. How I was then going to get it out of my slipper was another matter.
Dessert had been placed before me. I tried to concentrate on slipping the object into my slipper while taking small bites of the fruit-laden bread pudding soaked in fresh cream that had just a small drizzle of raspberry sauce across it. Hopefully my total concentration on getting the object into my slipper would be perceived to be me fully concentrating on dessert, which was certainly worth concentrating on. It was hard to keep my upper body still, except for bringing my spoon to my mouth, while my feet were doing a strange shuffle below the table, which was thankfully covered with a very long table cloth. It took me through dessert, to the point where I was about to scrape the plate with my spoon to get the very last morsel, until I felt the object slip into the side of my slipper.
The dessert plates were cleared away, and to my surprise, the meal was not yet done. Placed before us were a variety of cheeses and several small squares of dark chocolate. The server also brought a pot of tea and poured us each a cup. Da leaned back, patted his stomach, gave a great sigh, and suggested that it had been some time since he had had a meal this fine.
The folks at the other table had also finished dessert and were settling back with either tea or snifters of brandy. Perhaps now was the time they would begin to talk about something other than the weather. The woman who seemed to be the spokesperson of the group motioned to their server to come over.
“Go tell the flute player to come in here,” she said. The server returned a minute later with the young bearded man who had been playing the mountain flute softly as we ate. “I like your music, young man. If you kindly sit there,” pointing to the table between ours and theirs, “and play softly, there will be a nice bonus for you at the end of the evening.”
That was certainly going to make listening in on her party’s conversation a bit more difficult. I began to wonder if all that would come of this evening was going to be a fine meal, when I looked up into the face of the flute player and had two very swift thoughts. Beezle? And why did I not know he could play the mountain flute?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I do not know whether I was disappointed, or whether I was just a little bit smug that Beezle did not appear to recognize me. Then as I thought about it, I began to realize that my perception may be false. He was, after all, Lady Hadrack’s nephew and was probably in on the plans for this evening.
“Patrice, why don’t you pull your chair over to my side of the table, so we can go over the order sheets and see who we need to meet with tomorrow?” Da suggested.
It was a clever idea, for it would bring me closer to the folks we wanted to listen to at the other table. It also meant I was going to have to stand up, and I still did not know how I was going to unobtrusively get the object out of my slipper. The dropped napkin ploy had been used as had the bumping into the table ploy. I shifted my foot out of my slipper before I stood up, so that the object slipped down towards the toe. Then I slid my foot back inside the slipper. Since the slipper was a tad too big, the object lodged itself in the toe, and if I scrunched my toes up, it caused me to have only a slight limp. I could only hope I would not have to run any
where fast, for between the lump in my slipper and the voluminous amount of material in the skirt of the dress, I would not beat a turtle in a race. My Da, of course, noticed the slight limp as I moved to sit next to him and raised an inquiring eyebrow.
“Just a wee cramp in my leg from sitting too long,” I said. “That and new slippers. Might have developed a slight blister. Sometimes the price of fashion has added costs.”
Da chuckled at that, and anyone looking on would have seen only kind amusement from an over-indulgent uncle.
“Now we need to get down to business before the evening gets too late,” Da said, as he pulled a sheaf of paper out of his inside coat pocket. “Would you please pour me another cup of tea? Take a look at this column of figures and tell me what you think. Take your time.”
While I looked over several sheets of figures which made absolutely no sense to me and tried to listen intently to the quiet conversation at the other table, I was only getting snatches.
“All arranged . . .”
“Her movement will be strictly limited and . . .”
“But what if she starts questioning . . .”
“Have that under control. I have sent for the Raven . . .”
Just then one of the servers came to their table to inquire if everything was satisfactory and if they needed anything else.
“Just bring another several pots of tea and a bottle of your finest brandy,” an older male voice said. “Also, while you are doing that, finish clearing everything off the table. Once that is done, we do not wish to be disturbed. Is that clear?”
“Yes sir,” said the server, who quickly went about as ordered.
In the lull of the conversation at the other table, Da asked me my opinion of the sales so far. I decided I would talk about my wood products as if they were silk, since I knew nothing at all about silk other than how the dress felt.
“I think the smaller wares, with fanciful animal motifs and a smaller price, are going much better than the larger pieces, though there is some call for medium-sized functional pieces. The fairs seem like they are good markets but would not sustain anyone in the long term. It will be important to seek commissions for larger orders or establish a regular trade route to continue to be profitable.”
“Ah, niece, I am proud of you. You have learned much in such a short time,” said Da. “Now, I want you to check these figures out and see where you think we might trim the budget and increase the profits.”
Da then handed me a new set of papers and returned the ones we had been looking at to his inner coat pocket. While I pretended to study the new information, he then leaned back with his tea cup and saucer in hand. Meanwhile, the conversation had started up at the other table. Beezle’s flute playing had quieted down to soft haunting melodies, making it a bit easier to hear what the others were saying.
“Whatever we decide, it cannot happen until the very end of the fair in Snoddleton. If she needs to disappear, we want it to happen in such a way that it does not create a hue and cry in the middle of the fair.”
“Is there any way we could blame a disappearance on my Lord and Master?” Gowon said in his most disdainful voice.
“Oh, stop whining and thinking only of yourself,” Lady Farcroft snapped at him. “Try to consider the big picture here rather than just your little piece of it. But speaking of Lord Hadrack, have you learned anything of importance?”
I did not hear Gowon’s answer, for right at that point Beezle began playing a lively tune on a set of panpipes he had taken out of the satchel by his chair. I wondered if he was playing just that much louder so we had a harder time hearing, because we really did not need Gowon’s information. Da motioned to the papers I had in front of me and asked what I thought.
“Setting up our type of business with just a single merchant carrying only one type of wares could allow someone to earn a living. However, two folks with several types of wares would be more profitable and would provide an opportunity to share the workload,” I suggested. I hoped Da would see that as an invitation to join me now that we had finally found ourselves in the same place at the same time.
“That is true, Patrice, but I am afraid that we may have to put that off for awhile longer. Remember that our being in Crestbury is just to check out what could be possible. There is still much instability in the market at the moment, making luxury goods such as silk very chancy right now,” Da said.
I had only been half listening to him for someone new had entered the room. He was a tall man dressed entirely in black: boots, pants, shirt, jacket, and cloak. His very black hair was swept back almost wing-like, and his dark brows arched above very dark eyes that surveyed the room with a deadly coldness. I felt a shiver run down my spine. I did not know this man, nor did I think I ever wanted to. I thought I had felt frightened when tied up in the cellar, but that was nothing compared to what I felt just being in the room with this dark, dark man.
Da reached over and gave my hand a squeeze while removing the papers from them. “I’m getting tired, my dear. I think it’s time we headed back. I took care of the bill when you were reading the first set of papers, so we can go.”
When I stood, I realized that walking with the object in my shoe was going to cause considerable problems, and I needed to get it out of there. “I seem to have acquired a pebble in my slipper. Give me a moment, please, while I take care of the problem,” I said.
I sat back down and turned my back on the rest of the folk in the room. I hoped they would think I was a very modest lass and not suspect I was trying to hide something from them. Bending over to retrieve my slipper was a bit awkward, considering the amount of material in the dress, but I managed. I did not know what the object I had taken out of my slipper was, but as I brought it up towards my chest, the bag holding the two rings became very hot, even through the golden pine spider silk pouch. I did not know if the rings were responding favorably or unfavorably, but my instinctive feeling strongly suggesting that what I held was important. I needed to get it away from me, but I also somehow felt I should not return it to the woman whose bag it had fallen out of. I stood up, object clutched in my hand, and turned towards Da.
Just then, the new man turned and said, “You, flute player. We’ve had enough of your playing. Here now, pack up and move out of this room.”
The man then flung a number of coins in Beezle’s hat, which he had placed bottom up strategically next to him so that patrons from the main room and anyone in the room we were in could contribute.
That gave me an idea. I had no coin on me, so I turned to Da and asked, “Could you give me a few coins, so that I might give some to the flute player?”
“Why, of course, niece. He has played some fine music this night and made this meal quite a genteel experience. Here,” Da said as he handed me a small coin pouch.
I made a show of tipping some coins out. Beezle had stood by this time, gathered up his instruments and bags, and slung them over his shoulder. He had just picked up and placed his hat on his head, after removing the coins, as I approached him.
“Please wait, kind sir,” I said. “My uncle and I would like to give you a small measure of our appreciation for your fine playing this evening.”
Beezle, with a grand gesture, doffed his hat and held it out to me. I reached my hand into the hat and dropped both the coins and the object I had taken out of my slipper. Beezle then clutched the soft floppy hat to his chest and declared quite solemnly that he would never be able to spend the coins, for they had come from the hand of such a beautiful woman. I am sure I turned a bright red at that moment. I ducked my head as we passed under the archway separating the alcove we were in from the main room. I was worried that this fanciful display would make us way too noticeable and memorable. However, it seemed that very few of the patrons who had been here when we arrived had lingered as long as we had in the Inn of the Three Hares.
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I know, as Da and I headed towards the front door, I was glad to be leaving. One of the servers had just opened the door for us to exit when a male voice behind us shouted “You sir, stop.” I could feel the muscles of Da’s arm under my hand tense. He turned and casually moved between me and the door. It was the young man with the startling blue eyes, moving towards us holding out Da’s cane.
“You forgot your cane, sir,” he said.
“How good of you to notice, and how kind of you to bring it to me,” Da said. “How can I repay you?”
“Think nothing of it, sir. Be careful on your walk this evening. It has gotten dark, and the streets are less safe when the fair is in town.” He then lowered his voice and said, “Go quickly, the Raven is not pleased others have been in the room with us,” and with that said, turned on his heel and headed back across the main room.
When we exited the Inn, Da leaned down and said, “We need to move swiftly but not so fast as to draw attention to ourselves. Does that voluminous skirt detach?”
“Anything can be detached with the help of a sharp knife. I don’t think I should do that right here however,” I said wryly.
“Once we turn the next corner, be on the lookout for a side alley.”
I did not spot a side alley, but Da spotted a gate between two buildings which probably led to a back garden. Fortunately, the gate was not locked. We quickly went through the gate and closed it quietly behind us. Da handed me his knife and I, with great reluctance, slit the material of the dress near my waist and removed the skirt. I was then standing there in my slip, and I discovered the air had gotten a great deal cooler since we had left to go to dinner. Fortunately, I had carried a cloak with me, so I put that on. I was reluctant to leave the skirt behind, for that might cause some questions or lead back to Lady Hadrack.