Niccolo Rising - Dorothy Dunnett [186]
Felix held the door open, and let him come in, and shut it. He had never seen the dark doublet Claes was wearing, although his shirt was not very new. Felix said, “I was given the news at the door of the Poorterslogie. Maybe you even arranged that.”
Claes said, “Your mother thought she would find you here. There’s something I want to say, then you must go to her quickly. She needs you.”
“How did you get her to do it?” said Felix. It was hardly worth asking questions. He knew Claes would have all the answers. He’d never wanted to admit how clever Claes was. Neither had Julius.
Claes said, “I expanded the business too quickly. You’ll be ready to run it soon, but meantime she has no one she can trust. She offered me a business partnership in the form of marriage. That’s all it is. I have no share in the business. It’s all hers or yours. I can tell you, since it will be public knowledge, that I respect and honour your mother but that there’s no question of my sharing her room. The family owns the business. I am the family’s companion and factor.”
“How long have you been arranging it?” Felix said.
“It was discussed for the first time last night, and decided this morning,” Claes said.
“And carried out quickly in case I should stop it? I could probably stop it still,” Felix said.
Claes said, “No. It’s watertight. In any case, the news will be getting out now, and a reversal would only make things worse without altering the facts. The speed was to cut down the gossip, and also because I’ve got to go to Italy soon, and there’s a lot to be done for the business. I was hoping you would help me.”
“You used to imitate her,” said Felix suddenly. “You used to –”. He broke off.
“That was a long time ago,” said Claes. “I’ve been here since I was ten. Do you think I’d do anything to hurt you all?”
Felix thought of the canal bank and his throat produced a sound that began as an incredulous laugh. He stood facing Claes across the width of the small room. Neither of them had moved from the beginning. He said, “You’ve persuaded her to marry a workman twenty years younger and put him in charge of her business. In front of me. I’m the heir to the Charetty company – she doesn’t need any other man for that. The men won’t stand for it. They won’t work for you. And because you’re only a servant, and one she brought up herself, the city won’t accept any marvellous tale that you’ve married for the sake of the business, will they? They’ll think that she … that she …”
He broke off and said, “I don’t think Tilde will ever go out again.” Then, as Claes for the first time made a movement, Felix said scathingly, “And you say you don’t want to hurt us. You wanted to hurt us all right. All those times you turned the other cheek. All those beatings you took. This is the revenge you were planning, isn’t it?”
He had had a long time to think about it, on the canal bank; on the walk home. He hadn’t said all of that to his friends, because pride wouldn’t let him. But they didn’t contradict him, either, when it came to him how Claes was taking, at last, a wonderful, exquisite retribution. They couldn’t. It was true. There could be no other reason. His mother was an old woman. And Claes, if he put his mind to it, could get most people to do what he wanted. Especially women.
Claes said, “Revenge for what? Nobody’s hurt me. I like you.”
It was the way he always drew the sting; by not fighting. But this time it wouldn’t work. Felix said, “If you like us, why make us a public scandal? My mother a figure of fun? Ruin Tilde’s future and Catherine’s? What do you think I felt outside the Poorterslogie? How do you think I’d feel, standing aside and watching my own servant running my mother’s company? And not even the business will benefit: not if our workpeople won’t take your orders and the merchants turn their backs and make fun of us. Maybe you’re clever, but what experience do you have compared