The Eyre Affair_ A Novel - Jasper Fforde [374]
“No!” exclaimed the vet, eyes open wide.
“Indeed,” I replied, adding in a hushed tone, “and what’s more, we suspect that these men might not even be English.”
“You mean . . . Johnny Foreigners?” asked the vet, visibly shocked.
“Probably French. Now, are you with me on this?”
“Absolutely!” he breathed. “What are we going to do?”
“Swap dogs. When Johnny arrives, you tell him to go outside for a moment, we swap the dogs, when he comes back, you unwrap the bandages, the dog can see—and you say this dialogue instead.”
I handed him a scrap of paper. He looked at it thoughtfully.
“So Shadow stays here and the swapped Shadow is abducted by Johnny Foreigner and used for medical experiments?”
“Something like that. But not a word to anyone, you understand?”
“Word of honor!” replied the vet.
So I gave him the collie, and sure enough, when Johnny brought in the blinded Shadow, the vet told him to go and get some water, we swapped dogs and when Johnny returned, lo and behold, the dog could see again. The vet feigned complete surprise and Johnny, of course, was delighted. They left soon after.
I stepped from the office where I had been hiding.
“How did I do?” asked the vet, washing his hands.
“Perfect. There could be a medal in it for you.”
It all seemed to have gone swimmingly well. I couldn’t believe my luck. But more than that, I had the feeling that Havisham might actually be quite proud of her apprentice—at the very least this should make up for having to rescue me from the grammasites. Pleased, I opened the door to the street and was surprised to find that a lot of the locals had gathered, and they all seemed to be staring at me. My feeling of euphoria over the completed mission suddenly evaporated as unease welled up inside me.
“It’s time! It’s time!” announced one of the ladies I had seen earlier.
“Time for what?”
“Time for a wedding!”
“Whose?” I asked, not unreasonably.
“Why yours, of course!” she answered happily. “You touched Mr. Townsperson’s hand. You are betrothed. It is the law!”
The crowd surged towards me and I reached, not for my gun, but for my TravelBook in order to get out quickly. It was the wrong choice. Within a few moments I had been overpowered. They took my book and gun, then held me tightly and propelled me towards a nearby house, where I was forced into a wedding dress that had seen a lot of previous use and was several sizes too big.
“You won’t get away with this!” I told them as they hurriedly brushed and plaited my hair with two men holding my head. “Jurisfiction know where I am and will come after me, I swear!”
“You’ll get used to married life,” exclaimed one of the women, her mouth full of pins. “They all complain to begin with—but by the end of the afternoon they are as meek as lambs. Isn’t that so, Mr. Rustic?”
“Aye, Mrs. Passerby,” said one of the men holding my arms, “like lambs, meek.”
“You mean there were others?”
“There is nothing like a good wedding,” said one of the other men, “nothing except—”
Here Mr. Rustic nudged him and he was quiet.
“Nothing except what?” I asked, struggling again.
“Oh, hush!” said Mrs. Passerby. “You made me drop a stitch! Do you really want to look a mess on your wedding day?”
“Yes.”
Ten minutes later, bruised and with my hands tied behind my back and a garland of flowers in my badly pinned hair, I was being escorted towards the small village church. I managed to grab the lych-gate on the way in but was soon pulled clear. A few moments later I was standing at the altar next to Mr. Townsperson, who was neatly dressed in a morning suit. He smiled at me happily and I scowled back.
“We are gathered here today in the eyes of God to bring together this woman and this man . . .”
I struggled but it was no good.
“This proceeding has no basis in law!” I shouted, attempting to drown out the vicar. He signaled to the verger, who placed a bit of sticking plaster over my mouth. I struggled again, but with four burly farmworkers holding me, it was useless. I watched with a sort of strange