London - Edward Rutherfurd [274]
When Ducket received the message the following morning, he questioned the fat girl closely. But the message she delivered had been typically brief.
“That’s all she said? Come to the house this evening?”
“I’ve to let you in.”
“What’s going on?”
“I dunno.”
“You must know something.”
“Cook says Tiffany’s got to marry or go to a convent.”
“Who?”
“The long-nosed one, I s’pose.” She watched him impassively. “You coming?”
“Of course I will,” he cried, as she waddled away.
If anyone had been observing as the guests arrived at the house of Bull the merchant that evening, they might have noticed a curiously high proportion of eligible young men. There were several middle-aged aldermen with their wives, two of whom had brought daughters, also a widow and even a priest. But there were seven or eight bachelors.
No one knew of any particular reason why they were there. Before noon that day, the merchant had invited as many as he judged necessary. Besides Silversleeves, who looked very comfortable and at ease, standing in the middle of the upstairs room near Bull’s precious astrolabe, there were four sons of merchants, a young mercer and a draper, both from solid gentry families, and even the young fellow with a great estate. The only exception in terms of eligibility was the figure who, tall, red-faced and a little flustered, had clumped up the stairs behind the others. Chancing to see James Bull in the street, that afternoon, the merchant, with a shrug, had invited him too. He was, at least, a kinsman.
As it was almost midsummer, there were still hours of daylight left. It was warm; the lower half of the big window had been thrown open, allowing in a pleasant waft of air, cooled somewhat by the river which, the tide having just turned, was rushing with a roar through the channel far below. The company was relaxed; even James Bull, who to give himself confidence in such society had been thinking how honest he was all afternoon, soon began to feel at ease. The master of the house chatted to everyone affably.
Tiffany entered. How charming she looked. Perhaps she was a little pale, but she went over to Silversleeves, greeted him affectionately, and began to mix with the other guests. She even came and talked to James. From time to time her gaze strayed towards the door, but nobody noticed. Her father smiled at her and she at him.
For this meeting was their bargain. “I’m not telling anyone,” he had told her the day before, “because I’m not going to embarrass either Silversleeves or myself. But this much I’ll promise you. If you like any of the other young men in the room, you can marry them. They’ve all expressed an interest before. I’ll break it to Silversleeves. But if you don’t choose anyone else, then it’s Silversleeves, or a convent. I shan’t go back on this,” he had said with a stare. “You have my word.” And she had known he meant it.
It had been a bitter blow. She had intended to bring him round to the idea gradually; but there was no chance of that now. So she had planned her great gamble. She hoped it would work.
She was going to point to Ducket.
Yet even then, there was still one terrible danger – a flaw which, if she were wrong, would bring the whole plan down in ruin. What if Ducket did not want her? What if, that very day, he had promised himself to Amy? She had not dared tell the fat girl too much when she sent her to Ducket. She had not even dared to send a letter. And now, as there was no sign of him, she even began to wonder: did the fat girl deceive her? Had her father, who smiled at her now, already fore-stalled him? Where was he?
Ducket took his time. He had watched the guests arriving, and had waited. He did not want to meet anyone when he approached the house; if Silversleeves or Bull caught sight of him, he would certainly be thrown out. He would let them get started first.
There was another reason why he allowed himself to pause. These might be his last moments of freedom. He