Fic: A Fish Out Of Water - part 9
Apr. 21st, 2005 01:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lonelybritBut first... just a sad FYI for those not yet aware. If you're going to Collectormania, the two main SG1 guests have had to cancel. However, so far, ASH and AD and JM are still going to be there.
Secondly, after the usual adoration for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eloise_bright who has so beautifully beta-ed this indulgence fic, I'm posting the next part...
Previous parts can be found here.
Chapter Nine:
I’ve heard wise folk sagely say that the calm always comes before the storm. It’s the kind of statement that Will and Pryce casually throw into the mix of everyday conversation in order to either annoy, pass the time, or stop themselves saying something uncomplimentary. I guess it just shows how each man will approach problems in his own particular way. My general plan of action when something nasty is looming on the horizon is to take a moment to compose myself, then hit the nasty very hard and repeatedly until it goes away. Will and Pryce go ‘hmm’ and say something poetic that requires translation. Still, wouldn’t have them any other way really. And, for some really odd reason, it often works.
Where was I? Right, the evening before the reading of the will.
Both Pryce and I knew that, odds on, we were for it. Still, there was nothing we could do. Pryce may have revealed himself to have a personal history that would keep a London gossip column happily full for a week, but that didn’t actually help us. So, we did what men of strength and character do so well in such situations. We ignored it, and pretended, as best we could, that everything was right as rain.
As a result, the rest of the evening, after the bath, was far more peaceful. The only blip of excitement came when I tried to arrive for dinner in my pyjamas and dressing gown. Pryce practically staggered and clutched at the chair when he saw me. His face looked liked what I’d imagine Cleopatra’s would have been if her slaves had tried suggesting she bath in pond water.
“Is something wrong, Pryce?”
“Are you well, sir?”
“Well apart from being emotionally broken and battered about the body, yes, I’m fine.”
“Because your dress, sir. Surely you do not intend to dine in that outfit?”
“Erm, well, yes. Why, shouldn’t I?”
Pryce drew himself up and said firmly: “Follow me, sir.”
He led me straight back to the bedroom, pointing out the outfit laid out that I had overlooked, and held out his hand for my dressing gown. I hastily handed it over.
“Dinner will be waiting for you downstairs, sir.”
I dressed quickly, and soon enough returned to the dining table where, this time, I passed inspection. Pryce did wince a little at my tie-work, but it was a sign of how far we’d come that he let it pass.
Dinner turned out to be quite good. Not exactly stretching the cooking muscles, but still very tasty. I snapped it all up with genuine enthusiasm, and even felt my spirits lift a little. Maybe we could find a way between now and tomorrow to persuade Manners to take a long walk off a short cliff. It was in that spirit that I asked Pryce to join me in a glass of after dinner brandy. Pryce accepted the invitation with that tiny quirk of a smile of his, and we both settled in front of the fire. I knew better than to try bring up the subject of Knox, so for about half a glass we simply exchanged easy words on the weather, a good whiskey, places to visit in America, the latest books, the usual really. Then, finally, we knew we had to try and say what was really on our minds.
“I still say threatening MacDonald or Manners with a few broken bones might work,” I said, although without real hope.
“It does seem, at this moment in time, to be our only option,” Pryce agreed, delicately holding his glass with one finely boned hand. “To be frank, sir, it’s not as though we have anything to lose. And Manners is a public speaker, perhaps sheer vanity will make him willing to negotiate for the absence of a broken nose.”
It was a long shot, and we both knew it. But in the end, it was all we had. Despite this setback in our hopes, though, we found we actually had quite a lot to talk about. Hard to remember what, exactly. The fire burned lower, so the coals smouldered the way hot coals do, lots of heat but not much light. It was just one of those conversations where you just chat. Touch a little on every topic under the sun without really noticing. That kind of thing. Eventually, the striking clock alerted us to the hour and we wound up the evening, both finishing our drinks at the same time. Then I stood and held out the hand.
“Well, I guess that’s it, then. I’m going to crash for the night.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Is your room all right, by the way? I mean, if it’s too small or there’s something missing you only have to say.”
“It’s just fine, sir. Thank you.”
I entered the bedroom to discover Pryce had somehow managed to turn down the bed and tidy the bathroom, even though I swear he hadn’t been out of my sight for more than five seconds. He moved around the room as I settled myself, turning off various lights and generally shutting up shop. It was rather like being a kid again. My dressing gown taken and carefully laid over the foot of the bed, the glass set on the side, the lights turned off.
“Goodnight, sir.”
“Goodnight, Pryce.”
I listened to him bustling around the main rooms; presumably shutting the rest of the house down for the night. Then, finally, I heard a far door snap shut. I firmly told the brain to either shut down or contemplate Will’s problem, but to not go off on some completely inappropriate tangent. Then I counted sheep. I think I’d passed the three hundred and something mark before I finally fell asleep.
*~*~*~*
The morning dawned depressingly bright and cheerful. The birds gave it everything they had, the clouds floated past and probably the daffodils were merrily dancing away if I’d bothered to look.
Pryce served breakfast in silence, and I ate it with barely a word. We both knew what was coming. An early telegram from Will had told us that although he firmly believed our joint intellect could be bettered by an earthworm, he still wanted me there at the hall to hear the reading with him.
We drove up in the same grim silence. The hall came into view, looming into the blue sky. The windows glittered in the sun and the peacocks gave us the cold eye. Quite ghastly.
Inside proved no better. I think it was only because Will specifically asked for us that Greylings didn’t slam the door in our faces.
“His Lordship is working in his office,” he informed us coldly. “Perhaps you would like to wait in the parlour until the rest of your party arrives.”
The parlour was a cold looking room, with chairs that proved a lot harder than they looked.
“Any last minute flashes of inspiration?” I asked dully.
“No, sir.”
I studied the tips of my shoes and couldn’t bring myself to protest when Pryce slipped from the room. At least it meant I could wallow freely. A soft rumble of voices from the hallway indicated at least one other person had just arrived, but since I didn’t recognise Will’s familiar tones I didn’t bother trying to listen in.
“Well, good morning.”
I merely raised the eyes and shot a daggered look.
MacDonald breezed into the room with the most tasteless smile on his face.
“Such a lovely day, don’t you think?” He breathed in a large lungful of chilly air with every sign of enjoyment. “Smells like a promising future.”
I didn’t trust myself to say a word.
“Morning.”
The next person into the room looked a little closer to how I felt. Knox didn’t have the frown or drawn face that I would have preferred, but he didn’t smile. Nor did he give any indication that he had less than twelve hours previously turned up at my cottage and verbally roasted my valet with barely a ‘How do’ in my direction. The eyes were downcast, the expression quiet and withdrawn. He gave me a small nod and then went to inhabit a secluded corner.
“Chin up, Robbie,” said MacDonald with despicable cheer. “Today is a new start for us all. Right, Liam?”
“Go to hell, MacDonald.”
“You’re really not going about this the right way, you know. This could still be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” MacDonald stuck his hands in his pockets, leaning back against a table. “You hate us, I get that. It often starts that way, you know. But you’re just going to have to accept that-”
The door squeaked open.
“Mr Knox, you said to inform you at once if a telegram should-”
Knox practically flattened Greylings in his haste to get through the door.
“Yes, yes, Greylings, thank you.”
Greylings sniffed at the departing back and straightened his shoulders.
“His Lordship is greeting Sir Holland, they will be ready shortly.”
MacDonald grinned at me, teeth all sharp and eyes bright at the prospect of a kill. “Soon be time for you to see how things really work round here.”
I glowered and snarled some remark about how I would happily beat him to a jelly, but my heart wasn’t in it. The bell was tolling and soon the candle would be coming to light us to bed. Chip chop, and so on.
“Sir.”
The sound of a friendly voice made my head snap round, and sure enough, there was Pryce, barely a foot away. Any other time and I’d have enjoyed how MacDonald virtually jumped out of his skin at this apparition, but Pryce had a certain look on his face that had me instantly my feet and crossing the room. He withdrew back into the corridor and I followed, pulling the door to behind me.
“Pryce! Wow, you’re practically hopping.”
He froze and quickly adjusted himself. “I’m sorry, sir.”
I would have laughed and told him to relax, if the timing had been different. My keen eye, however, had picked up on a subtle change. A new lightness in his step. And considering our current state of affairs, there was only one reasonable possible cause. Even without a word spoken, I caught the scent of something temptingly like hope. I trusted Pryce not to become this animated over nothing. My hopes scraped themselves off the rock bottom and once more poised themselves to soar to the heavens.
“Mr Knox has just received a telegram, sir.”
“Yes,” I said with commendable patience.
“From America, sir.”
“Okay…”
“He asked to speak with me after having read it, sir, he says-”
“Gentlemen.”
Pryce and I swivelled to see Greylings standing a few feet away. Behind him, with a face like a storm cloud and eyes fixed on the ground, stood Will. He didn’t look up at me and his shoulders seemed to visibly strain under the great weight.
“His Lordship and Sir Holland are ready to receive you. If you would please proceed into the office on the left.”
I struggled with the moment. To go or not to go. Something about Pryce’s manner told me that whatever it was he had to say, it wasn’t going to be said in front of Greylings. Still, I was going to be damned if a mere technicality was going to stop him saying it.
“Pryce,” I said, giving him a prompting look.
Pryce had straightened, his gaze now fixed on Will.
“Go ahead, sir, I shall be with you directly.”
I stared at him. His eyes flickered my way and held mine just long enough for me to see a resolve there that I instinctively trusted.
“This way, sir.” Greylings stood by the door, apparently determined that I didn’t accidentally wander and wind up contaminating more rooms than I had to with my poisonous presence.
I wanted to give Will a comforting pat on the shoulder, some nice comment about how there was no way we were going to let this Manners creature get one over him. But Greyling’s eagle eye had me in its sights, and I meekly let myself be ushered into the imposing wooden panelled office. The books stretched from floor to ceiling, a large oil painting of some granite-eyed ancestor presided from over the fireplace. In the middle of the room a large mirror-smooth wooden table stretched over the plush carpet. The seats had been neatly set at regular intervals around it, and Greylings pulled one out for me. At the head, stood Manners and a tight lipped Lord Cusplip.
“Good morning,” I said with a peace-making smile. It was met with a frosty silence and a curl of the lip from either man. I hastily settled into the chair and fixed my attention on my hands.
“M’lord.” Greylings poked his head round the door again. “Master Davies requests a private word with you.”
Lord Cusplip ran a scathing look over me.
“Very well, Greylings.”
He took the longer route around the table, avoiding my chair like a plague-ridden rat.
“I do hope you are well this morning, Mr Connor,” Manners commented pleasantly. “Let yesterday be accepted as a misunderstanding. You are new to this country, but I trust you will quickly learn the lessons that need to be learnt.”
“I’m not the one in need of learning something.”
Manners smiled, those cold eyes sparking with malicious humour.
“We shall see about that, Mr Connor, we shall see.”
The air shifted by my shoulder and Manner’s smile became positively feral.
“And here you are, again, Wesley. That’s a lovely suit, I’m sorry if I forgot to mention that yesterday.”
The pitiless blue eyes fixed upon me once more. The humour had gone completely this time.
“You will find that there is a certain order, Mr Connor. Your companion and yourself are barely above the common rat in this continent. Your assault on my driver Mr Hamilton was a most serious offence, utterly unprovoked.”
“He deserved it,” I said flatly. I was not in the mood for subtle threats. “Besides I doubt peoples’ hearts will bleed for him when they know the reasons he got his black eye. And anyway, not to be childish, but your nephew hit me first. If anyone’s going to be bringing charges, it’ll be me.”
Manners cocked his head on one side, hands crossed tidily behind his back. His lizard-like unblinking gaze slid deliberately to Pryce. My hatred for him managed to somehow reach even higher levels. Manners positively radiated the smug glow of absolute confidence of holding the winning hand. He returned to me with a faint, razor thin smile.
“Well, if we are discussing valid charges that could be brought, I would remind you that you are currently employing a subject the papers would have a field day with.”
I seethed. My hands were almost shaking with the effort not to fist and fly at that unbearably tolerant face.
“Don’t think you can blackmail me into being quiet.”
“Blackmail?” Manners blinked and put one hand on his chest. “My dear Mr Connor, this is not blackmail. Nor is it a threat. It is a simple statement of the facts.”
“Very true, sir.”
And I started and rotated in my chair at Pryce’s cool words. His face showed no emotion, his hands were loose and relaxed by his sides.
“Technically, sir, blackmail involves the extortion of some money or objects of value from the selected party. Mr Manners is not requesting this of us.”
“I’m glad to see you taking such a clear view of this, Wesley.”
“In the same way, it is not blackmail to say that four months ago the notorious con-artist Darla Montel escaped police custody while Sir Holland’s nephew was visiting her in his capacity as appointed attorney. Nor would it be blackmail to tell you that she recently departed for the Americas on a ticket paid for out of Sir Holland’s private account, sir. The fact that the police are most anxious to catch up with this young lady, on account of other more serious crimes, is merely a little additional detail.”
Manners was the kind of man who never goggled or gaped. So he did not do so now. Instead he went white as alabaster, his jaw tightened and a tick started going at his temple.
“I have no idea what you are talking about, Pryce.”
“I’ve m- heard of her,” I exclaimed, astounded. “Is this true, Pryce?”
“Absolutely not!”
“There are bank records, sir. But also, Sir Holland, and I mention this purely in the spirit of frank candidness between friends, there is record of your meetings with the lady in your private offices. Your discussions would, I am sure, be of great interest to some of your clients. It is sad how temperamental and distrusting these – shall we call them ‘independently funded’, sir? – people can be. They might require reassurance that you were not, as they say, planning to stab them in the back, sir.”
Manners drew in a short hiss of breath. His eyes blazed with what would have been a terrifying fury had I not been mentally dancing and punching the air.
“What record?”
Pryce merely smiled. I mean, he actually smiled, lips curved with a surprisingly cruel curl.
“Audio recordings, sir.”
“Impossible.”
“Admittedly, unlikely to be permissible in a public court, but I doubt that, considering the nature of the information contained within, this technicality would lessen their potency. And whilst I do not speak with him as on a familiar basis, I am sure that my father and his colleagues would be open-minded regarding proof of authenticity should such evidence find its way into their hands.”
Manners lips tightened.
“You have nothing to do with the Council any more, Pryce.”
“You and I both know they are prepared to suspend previous judgements if the circumstances merit it.”
I could swear that the air was sparking between Manners and Pryce as they stared each other down. Who knows what Manners would have said; he looked like he had something venomous in mind, when the silence was interrupted by the door opening again.
“- no, Will, it can wait until after. Sorry for the delay,” clipped out Lord Cusplip, striding to the head of the table and seating himself. He laid his hands on the table and briskly raised his chin. “Do please seat yourselves and let’s get this over with.”
Will had trooped in after his uncle. He looked over at me with a questioning raising of the eyebrows and a silently mouthed ‘Well?’
I sneaked a peek at Manners. He looked ready to kill something. Probably something with blue eyes and wearing a nice suit. Pryce had done his usual vanishing without a sound trick. MacDonald strode in to take his place. He seemed to notice the change in atmosphere, shooting a similar glance at his uncle as Will had shot at me. Both glances went unanswered, neither me nor Manners could exactly say anything with Lord Cusplip sitting right there.
Manners put a sheaf of papers on the table and put a pair of spectacles on his nose. He stopped and flickered a poisonous look my way.
I smiled sweetly and nodded back at him.
Manners sniffed, straightened the specs, and began.
“Well, gentlemen…”
By the end Will was, as they say, rolling in it. Manners read out Lady Cusplip’s wishes regarding her royalties, and smoothly moved on to the next item with not so much as a blink.
Lord Cusplip showed little reaction upon learning his late wife had been a best-selling, heart-wringing poet. He just nodded and his moustache quivered a little. “She always did have the most wonderful way with words.”
*~*~*~*
“Well, Sir Holland, if that really is the last item dealt with?”
“Yes, it’s all done now, Lord Cusplip.”
Lord Cusplip rose from his seat. It was like a great weight had suddenly lifted from his shoulders, yet at the same time he looked more fragile than he had before, as if some prop had been removed from under him. Grief is an emotion I don’t think about too much. It’s complicated, I leave it at that.
“I am sure you would like to be getting on your way, Sir Holland. Please don’t let me detain you any further. I will show you out. No, no, it’s no problem I assure you.”
MacDonald tilted his head back and I could hear the cogs of his mind turning as he blinked thoughtfully at me. As Manners passed behind him he gave a light tap on the shoulder and MacDonald, his lips thinning in a ‘This isn’t over’ kind of smile, obediently rose and followed the small party out the room.
And that was it. Done and dusted. I took a moment to let them get out of earshot, and then, as Pryce drifted back into the room.
“Pryce, you were brilliant!”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Oh, the look on their faces.” I paused and took a deep breath. “The memory shall keep me warm on cold winter nights.”
“Delighted to hear it, sir.”
“I could kiss you.”
“Please don’t, sir.”
“Yes, Liam, for the love of sanity, please don’t.” Will was still sitting at the table. Although his tone was dour, the corner of his mouth trembled and his eyes sparkled. “How the bloody hell did you manage that? I can’t believe that an inhuman creature like Manners would back down to your usual threats.”
“It wasn’t me. It was Pryce. He dug out a piece of Wolfram and Hart history. He hit Manners with it just before you came in. Manners wasn’t happy.”
“Ah, is that why I had to keep Uncle Eddy out the way? I thought you said you didn’t talk with your old man any more, Pryce.”
“The information was from another source, Mr Davis.”
“Really?” Will’s eyebrows rocketed. “No chance you could-”
“I fear not, sir.”
“Oh well, no skin off my nose.” Will finally grinned from ear to ear, bounded from his seat and happily performed his version of a tribal dance of joy. “Oh yes! Eat that, Manners! You picked the wrong family this time! Bring it on, we’ll take you all!”
I stood there, a grin of my own splitting my face. Will deserved a piece of good fortune, and his delight at this latest outcome was infectious.
“Knock it off, you pillock,” I said fondly. As the saying says, the cockles of my heart were warmed at seeing him so jubilant. For several minutes Will pranced and spouted poetry on how Manners had looked like a newt, a camel, a snail faced with crossing a salt field… and so on. Personally I thought that Manners had managed to keep a fairly rigid profile during the meeting, but I didn’t want to burst Will’s bubble.
“Don’t you pillock me, Liam, not today!” Will finally collapsed with a flurry of limbs back into his chair. He gazed up at me with a radiant smile. “You know, I’m not saying I was wrong, because we both know that’s physically impossible, but I think that new valet of yours might just be the exception to a family trend. I mean, any man who helps put a Manner’s nose out of joint is a good egg, as far as I’m concerned.”
There was a silence where there should have been a ‘Thank you, sir’.
“Where’d he go?”
“Pryce? He slipped out when I started dancing. Well, fled, really. I think I unnerved him.”
Will sounded a little amused.
“Speaking of, Liam old man, is anything-”
“Don’t say a word.”
“Right-ho.”
“I mean, he knows about… well, that I’m… that I… Exactly.”
“What an orator you are, Liam.”
“Just because I’m happy for you doesn’t mean I won’t hesitate in breaking your spine.”
“Ah, where would I be without you. Other than richer and more successful, obviously.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And I think Pryce had a heading for the parlour kind of look.”
“Thanks.”
“You bloody poof.” Will gave me a grin and leant back in the chair, feet going up to rest on the table. “Now bugger off and let me bask.”
Next part here.
Secondly, after the usual adoration for
eloise_bright who has so beautifully beta-ed this indulgence fic, I'm posting the next part...Previous parts can be found here.
Chapter Nine:
I’ve heard wise folk sagely say that the calm always comes before the storm. It’s the kind of statement that Will and Pryce casually throw into the mix of everyday conversation in order to either annoy, pass the time, or stop themselves saying something uncomplimentary. I guess it just shows how each man will approach problems in his own particular way. My general plan of action when something nasty is looming on the horizon is to take a moment to compose myself, then hit the nasty very hard and repeatedly until it goes away. Will and Pryce go ‘hmm’ and say something poetic that requires translation. Still, wouldn’t have them any other way really. And, for some really odd reason, it often works.
Where was I? Right, the evening before the reading of the will.
Both Pryce and I knew that, odds on, we were for it. Still, there was nothing we could do. Pryce may have revealed himself to have a personal history that would keep a London gossip column happily full for a week, but that didn’t actually help us. So, we did what men of strength and character do so well in such situations. We ignored it, and pretended, as best we could, that everything was right as rain.
As a result, the rest of the evening, after the bath, was far more peaceful. The only blip of excitement came when I tried to arrive for dinner in my pyjamas and dressing gown. Pryce practically staggered and clutched at the chair when he saw me. His face looked liked what I’d imagine Cleopatra’s would have been if her slaves had tried suggesting she bath in pond water.
“Is something wrong, Pryce?”
“Are you well, sir?”
“Well apart from being emotionally broken and battered about the body, yes, I’m fine.”
“Because your dress, sir. Surely you do not intend to dine in that outfit?”
“Erm, well, yes. Why, shouldn’t I?”
Pryce drew himself up and said firmly: “Follow me, sir.”
He led me straight back to the bedroom, pointing out the outfit laid out that I had overlooked, and held out his hand for my dressing gown. I hastily handed it over.
“Dinner will be waiting for you downstairs, sir.”
I dressed quickly, and soon enough returned to the dining table where, this time, I passed inspection. Pryce did wince a little at my tie-work, but it was a sign of how far we’d come that he let it pass.
Dinner turned out to be quite good. Not exactly stretching the cooking muscles, but still very tasty. I snapped it all up with genuine enthusiasm, and even felt my spirits lift a little. Maybe we could find a way between now and tomorrow to persuade Manners to take a long walk off a short cliff. It was in that spirit that I asked Pryce to join me in a glass of after dinner brandy. Pryce accepted the invitation with that tiny quirk of a smile of his, and we both settled in front of the fire. I knew better than to try bring up the subject of Knox, so for about half a glass we simply exchanged easy words on the weather, a good whiskey, places to visit in America, the latest books, the usual really. Then, finally, we knew we had to try and say what was really on our minds.
“I still say threatening MacDonald or Manners with a few broken bones might work,” I said, although without real hope.
“It does seem, at this moment in time, to be our only option,” Pryce agreed, delicately holding his glass with one finely boned hand. “To be frank, sir, it’s not as though we have anything to lose. And Manners is a public speaker, perhaps sheer vanity will make him willing to negotiate for the absence of a broken nose.”
It was a long shot, and we both knew it. But in the end, it was all we had. Despite this setback in our hopes, though, we found we actually had quite a lot to talk about. Hard to remember what, exactly. The fire burned lower, so the coals smouldered the way hot coals do, lots of heat but not much light. It was just one of those conversations where you just chat. Touch a little on every topic under the sun without really noticing. That kind of thing. Eventually, the striking clock alerted us to the hour and we wound up the evening, both finishing our drinks at the same time. Then I stood and held out the hand.
“Well, I guess that’s it, then. I’m going to crash for the night.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Is your room all right, by the way? I mean, if it’s too small or there’s something missing you only have to say.”
“It’s just fine, sir. Thank you.”
I entered the bedroom to discover Pryce had somehow managed to turn down the bed and tidy the bathroom, even though I swear he hadn’t been out of my sight for more than five seconds. He moved around the room as I settled myself, turning off various lights and generally shutting up shop. It was rather like being a kid again. My dressing gown taken and carefully laid over the foot of the bed, the glass set on the side, the lights turned off.
“Goodnight, sir.”
“Goodnight, Pryce.”
I listened to him bustling around the main rooms; presumably shutting the rest of the house down for the night. Then, finally, I heard a far door snap shut. I firmly told the brain to either shut down or contemplate Will’s problem, but to not go off on some completely inappropriate tangent. Then I counted sheep. I think I’d passed the three hundred and something mark before I finally fell asleep.
*~*~*~*
The morning dawned depressingly bright and cheerful. The birds gave it everything they had, the clouds floated past and probably the daffodils were merrily dancing away if I’d bothered to look.
Pryce served breakfast in silence, and I ate it with barely a word. We both knew what was coming. An early telegram from Will had told us that although he firmly believed our joint intellect could be bettered by an earthworm, he still wanted me there at the hall to hear the reading with him.
We drove up in the same grim silence. The hall came into view, looming into the blue sky. The windows glittered in the sun and the peacocks gave us the cold eye. Quite ghastly.
Inside proved no better. I think it was only because Will specifically asked for us that Greylings didn’t slam the door in our faces.
“His Lordship is working in his office,” he informed us coldly. “Perhaps you would like to wait in the parlour until the rest of your party arrives.”
The parlour was a cold looking room, with chairs that proved a lot harder than they looked.
“Any last minute flashes of inspiration?” I asked dully.
“No, sir.”
I studied the tips of my shoes and couldn’t bring myself to protest when Pryce slipped from the room. At least it meant I could wallow freely. A soft rumble of voices from the hallway indicated at least one other person had just arrived, but since I didn’t recognise Will’s familiar tones I didn’t bother trying to listen in.
“Well, good morning.”
I merely raised the eyes and shot a daggered look.
MacDonald breezed into the room with the most tasteless smile on his face.
“Such a lovely day, don’t you think?” He breathed in a large lungful of chilly air with every sign of enjoyment. “Smells like a promising future.”
I didn’t trust myself to say a word.
“Morning.”
The next person into the room looked a little closer to how I felt. Knox didn’t have the frown or drawn face that I would have preferred, but he didn’t smile. Nor did he give any indication that he had less than twelve hours previously turned up at my cottage and verbally roasted my valet with barely a ‘How do’ in my direction. The eyes were downcast, the expression quiet and withdrawn. He gave me a small nod and then went to inhabit a secluded corner.
“Chin up, Robbie,” said MacDonald with despicable cheer. “Today is a new start for us all. Right, Liam?”
“Go to hell, MacDonald.”
“You’re really not going about this the right way, you know. This could still be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” MacDonald stuck his hands in his pockets, leaning back against a table. “You hate us, I get that. It often starts that way, you know. But you’re just going to have to accept that-”
The door squeaked open.
“Mr Knox, you said to inform you at once if a telegram should-”
Knox practically flattened Greylings in his haste to get through the door.
“Yes, yes, Greylings, thank you.”
Greylings sniffed at the departing back and straightened his shoulders.
“His Lordship is greeting Sir Holland, they will be ready shortly.”
MacDonald grinned at me, teeth all sharp and eyes bright at the prospect of a kill. “Soon be time for you to see how things really work round here.”
I glowered and snarled some remark about how I would happily beat him to a jelly, but my heart wasn’t in it. The bell was tolling and soon the candle would be coming to light us to bed. Chip chop, and so on.
“Sir.”
The sound of a friendly voice made my head snap round, and sure enough, there was Pryce, barely a foot away. Any other time and I’d have enjoyed how MacDonald virtually jumped out of his skin at this apparition, but Pryce had a certain look on his face that had me instantly my feet and crossing the room. He withdrew back into the corridor and I followed, pulling the door to behind me.
“Pryce! Wow, you’re practically hopping.”
He froze and quickly adjusted himself. “I’m sorry, sir.”
I would have laughed and told him to relax, if the timing had been different. My keen eye, however, had picked up on a subtle change. A new lightness in his step. And considering our current state of affairs, there was only one reasonable possible cause. Even without a word spoken, I caught the scent of something temptingly like hope. I trusted Pryce not to become this animated over nothing. My hopes scraped themselves off the rock bottom and once more poised themselves to soar to the heavens.
“Mr Knox has just received a telegram, sir.”
“Yes,” I said with commendable patience.
“From America, sir.”
“Okay…”
“He asked to speak with me after having read it, sir, he says-”
“Gentlemen.”
Pryce and I swivelled to see Greylings standing a few feet away. Behind him, with a face like a storm cloud and eyes fixed on the ground, stood Will. He didn’t look up at me and his shoulders seemed to visibly strain under the great weight.
“His Lordship and Sir Holland are ready to receive you. If you would please proceed into the office on the left.”
I struggled with the moment. To go or not to go. Something about Pryce’s manner told me that whatever it was he had to say, it wasn’t going to be said in front of Greylings. Still, I was going to be damned if a mere technicality was going to stop him saying it.
“Pryce,” I said, giving him a prompting look.
Pryce had straightened, his gaze now fixed on Will.
“Go ahead, sir, I shall be with you directly.”
I stared at him. His eyes flickered my way and held mine just long enough for me to see a resolve there that I instinctively trusted.
“This way, sir.” Greylings stood by the door, apparently determined that I didn’t accidentally wander and wind up contaminating more rooms than I had to with my poisonous presence.
I wanted to give Will a comforting pat on the shoulder, some nice comment about how there was no way we were going to let this Manners creature get one over him. But Greyling’s eagle eye had me in its sights, and I meekly let myself be ushered into the imposing wooden panelled office. The books stretched from floor to ceiling, a large oil painting of some granite-eyed ancestor presided from over the fireplace. In the middle of the room a large mirror-smooth wooden table stretched over the plush carpet. The seats had been neatly set at regular intervals around it, and Greylings pulled one out for me. At the head, stood Manners and a tight lipped Lord Cusplip.
“Good morning,” I said with a peace-making smile. It was met with a frosty silence and a curl of the lip from either man. I hastily settled into the chair and fixed my attention on my hands.
“M’lord.” Greylings poked his head round the door again. “Master Davies requests a private word with you.”
Lord Cusplip ran a scathing look over me.
“Very well, Greylings.”
He took the longer route around the table, avoiding my chair like a plague-ridden rat.
“I do hope you are well this morning, Mr Connor,” Manners commented pleasantly. “Let yesterday be accepted as a misunderstanding. You are new to this country, but I trust you will quickly learn the lessons that need to be learnt.”
“I’m not the one in need of learning something.”
Manners smiled, those cold eyes sparking with malicious humour.
“We shall see about that, Mr Connor, we shall see.”
The air shifted by my shoulder and Manner’s smile became positively feral.
“And here you are, again, Wesley. That’s a lovely suit, I’m sorry if I forgot to mention that yesterday.”
The pitiless blue eyes fixed upon me once more. The humour had gone completely this time.
“You will find that there is a certain order, Mr Connor. Your companion and yourself are barely above the common rat in this continent. Your assault on my driver Mr Hamilton was a most serious offence, utterly unprovoked.”
“He deserved it,” I said flatly. I was not in the mood for subtle threats. “Besides I doubt peoples’ hearts will bleed for him when they know the reasons he got his black eye. And anyway, not to be childish, but your nephew hit me first. If anyone’s going to be bringing charges, it’ll be me.”
Manners cocked his head on one side, hands crossed tidily behind his back. His lizard-like unblinking gaze slid deliberately to Pryce. My hatred for him managed to somehow reach even higher levels. Manners positively radiated the smug glow of absolute confidence of holding the winning hand. He returned to me with a faint, razor thin smile.
“Well, if we are discussing valid charges that could be brought, I would remind you that you are currently employing a subject the papers would have a field day with.”
I seethed. My hands were almost shaking with the effort not to fist and fly at that unbearably tolerant face.
“Don’t think you can blackmail me into being quiet.”
“Blackmail?” Manners blinked and put one hand on his chest. “My dear Mr Connor, this is not blackmail. Nor is it a threat. It is a simple statement of the facts.”
“Very true, sir.”
And I started and rotated in my chair at Pryce’s cool words. His face showed no emotion, his hands were loose and relaxed by his sides.
“Technically, sir, blackmail involves the extortion of some money or objects of value from the selected party. Mr Manners is not requesting this of us.”
“I’m glad to see you taking such a clear view of this, Wesley.”
“In the same way, it is not blackmail to say that four months ago the notorious con-artist Darla Montel escaped police custody while Sir Holland’s nephew was visiting her in his capacity as appointed attorney. Nor would it be blackmail to tell you that she recently departed for the Americas on a ticket paid for out of Sir Holland’s private account, sir. The fact that the police are most anxious to catch up with this young lady, on account of other more serious crimes, is merely a little additional detail.”
Manners was the kind of man who never goggled or gaped. So he did not do so now. Instead he went white as alabaster, his jaw tightened and a tick started going at his temple.
“I have no idea what you are talking about, Pryce.”
“I’ve m- heard of her,” I exclaimed, astounded. “Is this true, Pryce?”
“Absolutely not!”
“There are bank records, sir. But also, Sir Holland, and I mention this purely in the spirit of frank candidness between friends, there is record of your meetings with the lady in your private offices. Your discussions would, I am sure, be of great interest to some of your clients. It is sad how temperamental and distrusting these – shall we call them ‘independently funded’, sir? – people can be. They might require reassurance that you were not, as they say, planning to stab them in the back, sir.”
Manners drew in a short hiss of breath. His eyes blazed with what would have been a terrifying fury had I not been mentally dancing and punching the air.
“What record?”
Pryce merely smiled. I mean, he actually smiled, lips curved with a surprisingly cruel curl.
“Audio recordings, sir.”
“Impossible.”
“Admittedly, unlikely to be permissible in a public court, but I doubt that, considering the nature of the information contained within, this technicality would lessen their potency. And whilst I do not speak with him as on a familiar basis, I am sure that my father and his colleagues would be open-minded regarding proof of authenticity should such evidence find its way into their hands.”
Manners lips tightened.
“You have nothing to do with the Council any more, Pryce.”
“You and I both know they are prepared to suspend previous judgements if the circumstances merit it.”
I could swear that the air was sparking between Manners and Pryce as they stared each other down. Who knows what Manners would have said; he looked like he had something venomous in mind, when the silence was interrupted by the door opening again.
“- no, Will, it can wait until after. Sorry for the delay,” clipped out Lord Cusplip, striding to the head of the table and seating himself. He laid his hands on the table and briskly raised his chin. “Do please seat yourselves and let’s get this over with.”
Will had trooped in after his uncle. He looked over at me with a questioning raising of the eyebrows and a silently mouthed ‘Well?’
I sneaked a peek at Manners. He looked ready to kill something. Probably something with blue eyes and wearing a nice suit. Pryce had done his usual vanishing without a sound trick. MacDonald strode in to take his place. He seemed to notice the change in atmosphere, shooting a similar glance at his uncle as Will had shot at me. Both glances went unanswered, neither me nor Manners could exactly say anything with Lord Cusplip sitting right there.
Manners put a sheaf of papers on the table and put a pair of spectacles on his nose. He stopped and flickered a poisonous look my way.
I smiled sweetly and nodded back at him.
Manners sniffed, straightened the specs, and began.
“Well, gentlemen…”
By the end Will was, as they say, rolling in it. Manners read out Lady Cusplip’s wishes regarding her royalties, and smoothly moved on to the next item with not so much as a blink.
Lord Cusplip showed little reaction upon learning his late wife had been a best-selling, heart-wringing poet. He just nodded and his moustache quivered a little. “She always did have the most wonderful way with words.”
*~*~*~*
“Well, Sir Holland, if that really is the last item dealt with?”
“Yes, it’s all done now, Lord Cusplip.”
Lord Cusplip rose from his seat. It was like a great weight had suddenly lifted from his shoulders, yet at the same time he looked more fragile than he had before, as if some prop had been removed from under him. Grief is an emotion I don’t think about too much. It’s complicated, I leave it at that.
“I am sure you would like to be getting on your way, Sir Holland. Please don’t let me detain you any further. I will show you out. No, no, it’s no problem I assure you.”
MacDonald tilted his head back and I could hear the cogs of his mind turning as he blinked thoughtfully at me. As Manners passed behind him he gave a light tap on the shoulder and MacDonald, his lips thinning in a ‘This isn’t over’ kind of smile, obediently rose and followed the small party out the room.
And that was it. Done and dusted. I took a moment to let them get out of earshot, and then, as Pryce drifted back into the room.
“Pryce, you were brilliant!”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Oh, the look on their faces.” I paused and took a deep breath. “The memory shall keep me warm on cold winter nights.”
“Delighted to hear it, sir.”
“I could kiss you.”
“Please don’t, sir.”
“Yes, Liam, for the love of sanity, please don’t.” Will was still sitting at the table. Although his tone was dour, the corner of his mouth trembled and his eyes sparkled. “How the bloody hell did you manage that? I can’t believe that an inhuman creature like Manners would back down to your usual threats.”
“It wasn’t me. It was Pryce. He dug out a piece of Wolfram and Hart history. He hit Manners with it just before you came in. Manners wasn’t happy.”
“Ah, is that why I had to keep Uncle Eddy out the way? I thought you said you didn’t talk with your old man any more, Pryce.”
“The information was from another source, Mr Davis.”
“Really?” Will’s eyebrows rocketed. “No chance you could-”
“I fear not, sir.”
“Oh well, no skin off my nose.” Will finally grinned from ear to ear, bounded from his seat and happily performed his version of a tribal dance of joy. “Oh yes! Eat that, Manners! You picked the wrong family this time! Bring it on, we’ll take you all!”
I stood there, a grin of my own splitting my face. Will deserved a piece of good fortune, and his delight at this latest outcome was infectious.
“Knock it off, you pillock,” I said fondly. As the saying says, the cockles of my heart were warmed at seeing him so jubilant. For several minutes Will pranced and spouted poetry on how Manners had looked like a newt, a camel, a snail faced with crossing a salt field… and so on. Personally I thought that Manners had managed to keep a fairly rigid profile during the meeting, but I didn’t want to burst Will’s bubble.
“Don’t you pillock me, Liam, not today!” Will finally collapsed with a flurry of limbs back into his chair. He gazed up at me with a radiant smile. “You know, I’m not saying I was wrong, because we both know that’s physically impossible, but I think that new valet of yours might just be the exception to a family trend. I mean, any man who helps put a Manner’s nose out of joint is a good egg, as far as I’m concerned.”
There was a silence where there should have been a ‘Thank you, sir’.
“Where’d he go?”
“Pryce? He slipped out when I started dancing. Well, fled, really. I think I unnerved him.”
Will sounded a little amused.
“Speaking of, Liam old man, is anything-”
“Don’t say a word.”
“Right-ho.”
“I mean, he knows about… well, that I’m… that I… Exactly.”
“What an orator you are, Liam.”
“Just because I’m happy for you doesn’t mean I won’t hesitate in breaking your spine.”
“Ah, where would I be without you. Other than richer and more successful, obviously.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And I think Pryce had a heading for the parlour kind of look.”
“Thanks.”
“You bloody poof.” Will gave me a grin and leant back in the chair, feet going up to rest on the table. “Now bugger off and let me bask.”
Next part here.
