Niccolo Rising - Dorothy Dunnett [216]
“They tell me,” said Jaak de Fleury, “that a young kinsman has arrived at my door. I came immediately. I am most harassed with business. My desk is laden. I have visitors due in an hour and many letters to write, but for these words I stop. A young kinsman, wishing to speak to me. And you, I take it, are he?”
Felix gazed, fascinated, at the good teeth. “Yes,” he said.
The good teeth showed themselves in a second smile, behind which was a hint of weariness. “Yes,” echoed Jaak de Fleury. His voice was encouraging. He said, “You will, I hope, allow me to compliment you on your excellent hat. Indeed, it is uncommon to see such a rare confection in Geneva. And the distinguished cut of the jacket.”
Behind Felix, one of his servants shifted. He felt hot. He wondered why the man was keeping him on his threshold discussing clothing. He said, “Thank you, monsieur. I’ve been hunting at Genappe.”
The dark eyes sharpened. There was the breath of a pause. Then a smile of true spontaneity enlarged the small mouth. Jaak de Fleury said, “At Genappe! My young kinsman has been hunting with the Dauphin! Now here is reflected glory indeed for your poor relative in Geneva! And now tell me, what is your name, my boy?”
Felix said, “I have already told your steward. I am Felix de Charetty from Bruges. I called expecting to find my mother here.”
“Your mother!” said his overwhelmed kinsman. “Now here is a knot! You are Felix de Charetty – of course, there is a relationship somewhere by marriage. You are right. And you expected to find your mother in this house?”
“She isn’t here?” Felix said. As well as hot, he was growing angry. The man might be rich and might be, on the face of it, friendly, but he was still standing inside the courtyard, one ringed hand laid on the open gate, and Felix de Charetty was still standing at the entrance, with his men and his mounts.
“Never!” said M. de Fleury. “Nor sent word she was coming, poor lady. No doubt she needs help of some sort.”
“Then,” said Felix, “you have made a mistake. She is in no need of help. She was merely travelling south with her … She was merely proposing to call on you.”
“My dear young man,” said Jaak de Fleury. The tone he used was so changed that Felix, forgetting his pique, simply stared at him.
“My dear young man, if you have spent some days at Genappe – is it possible that you have not heard from Bruges? That you did not call at Bruges before setting off south? That, in fact, you have not heard the terrible, terrible news?”
“What?” said Felix. At either elbow his servants moved forward. All three stared like imbeciles at the prosperous figure before them.
“My poor, poor boy,” said Jaak de Fleury. “The Charetty business no longer exists. It burned to ashes last month, on the eve of the White Bear tournament.”
They got invited inside then. The servants and the horses and baggage disappeared. His heart thudding, Felix followed Jaak de Fleury up stairs and through passages, ramming into him when the merchant stopped to answer questions, and getting left behind when he lost himself thinking up more to ask.
The dear lady his mother was alive, and his sisters. No one had been killed. The house, the yard, the stock had all gone. A tragedy. A tragedy when the lady was, by all accounts, already deeply in debt because of some incautious commitments. And M. de Fleury had heard rumours of another kind, although he did not propose to offend the lady’s son by relating them. About a marriage to a certain scullion. Although nonsense, these tales injured the reputation of a company, along with that of its officers. “But of course,” said Jaak de Fleury, entering a parlour at last and signing his bemused visitor to a settle, “there is no Charetty company now, alas. So rumours have no importance. Some wine?”
Felix said, “I’ll have to get back.”
“Yes, of course. But after some wine, and a rest. My