Read Online A Matter of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 1) by Ichabod Temperance - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ichabod Temperance
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me.
“He is clearly not ‘Da’ath Clubbe’ material.”
“Mr. Temperance is not applying for membership, Trevor, and we shall only be here for a short while.”
Trevor casts a dubious and despairing examinatory eye over me again.
“Oh, I am sorry, Persephone, but I just cannot allow it.”
Miss Plumtartt touches the touchy manager on the sleeve and batts her lengthy lashes.
“Oh, Trevor, darling, please? ” ~ batt, batt, batt ~
“Very well,” Trevor relents with a weary sigh.
Those eye lashes of Miss Plumtartt are hard to resist. They could probably gain entrance to the Bank of England vault.
Mr. Aeon’s dark features darken further as I am perused from head to foot once more.
“You will be silent and well-mannered, young man. Am I understood?”
“Yessir, I’ll be good, Mr. Trevor, sir.”
“That’s Aeon.”
“Yessir, Mr. Aye-yawn, sir. Y’all ain’t gotta worry ‘bout me none, I promise. You all won’t even know I’m around; why, it’s not in my nature to be any more noisy than a churchmouse.”
“Mmnnyyeesss, well. Please leave your armaments at the desk, young man.”
“Yessir.” I leave my pistol belt and knives at the lobby desk.
Our reluctant host ushers us to an exquisite parlour. Mr. Trevor gives me one more disapproving once over before going to find the man we are here to see.
I locate a big comfy chair and pull out my clay pipe. I think back on our desperate flight last night through Ipswich. It was a near thing indeed, that we made it to the docks, for there was a bushel of nasty kritters that wanted to do us in. I think I am proving to be fairly adept at this slash and thrust sort of thing with the new emerald blade. I was doing pretty well against the wormy insects, up until… hunh… Things faded out for a bit. I feel as if there is a span of time that I have lost from memory. Did I dream it, or did Miss Plumtartt actually call me by my Christian name? I have a vague impression that she did. Miss Plumtartt’s distinctive and lyrical voice calling my first name. ‘Ichabod.’ In fact, good golly, I think I took that incredible woman in my arms! I held her and carried her! I had almost quite forgotten! The last thing I remember before this is running through the streets, making for the now smashed Ipswich docks. There is a muddy blur in my memory. I think something important happened between Miss Plumtartt and me, but I can’t bring it to mind. What could have happened that I would forget such close contact with such a beautiful girl?
Hey, a gentleman has just walked into our parlour. He is of stout girth, fancy dress, and an arrogant attitude. I can tell straight away he is not the man we are to meet. Rather, he is quite a rude fellow with a German accent.
I stand up to meet him but he dismisses me as being beneath his contempt, barely giving me a glance before he is all over Miss Plumtartt.
Like black on coal, like white on rice, like stink on a Junebug, this Teutonic Lothario is putting himself forward against Miss Plumtartt.
I ain’t liking this a bit.
But I promised to be good.
This slimey son of a gun has not stopped staring at Miss Plumtartt. She is a pretty girl, and easy to look at, but this big jerk is openly ogling a proper young lady. He is making Miss Plumtartt uncomfortable and I am getting hot.
But I promised to be good.
“Mein scrumptious strudel! You have zee pleasure of meeting,” (Brightly shining booted heels click sharply together.) “Herr Doktor Rudolph Himmel!”
Herr Doktor Rudolph Himmel tries to impress Miss Plumtartt with a long list of family titles, scholarly credentials and enough following initials to start a new language with.
“So, Fraulein Plumtartt,” drools the passionate Prussian. He wedges a thick monocle into position to get a better look. He is leering at Miss Plumtartt in a most inappropriately familiar manner! “normally I would be staunchly against allowing der female entrance to mein clubbe, but for a
“He is clearly not ‘Da’ath Clubbe’ material.”
“Mr. Temperance is not applying for membership, Trevor, and we shall only be here for a short while.”
Trevor casts a dubious and despairing examinatory eye over me again.
“Oh, I am sorry, Persephone, but I just cannot allow it.”
Miss Plumtartt touches the touchy manager on the sleeve and batts her lengthy lashes.
“Oh, Trevor, darling, please? ” ~ batt, batt, batt ~
“Very well,” Trevor relents with a weary sigh.
Those eye lashes of Miss Plumtartt are hard to resist. They could probably gain entrance to the Bank of England vault.
Mr. Aeon’s dark features darken further as I am perused from head to foot once more.
“You will be silent and well-mannered, young man. Am I understood?”
“Yessir, I’ll be good, Mr. Trevor, sir.”
“That’s Aeon.”
“Yessir, Mr. Aye-yawn, sir. Y’all ain’t gotta worry ‘bout me none, I promise. You all won’t even know I’m around; why, it’s not in my nature to be any more noisy than a churchmouse.”
“Mmnnyyeesss, well. Please leave your armaments at the desk, young man.”
“Yessir.” I leave my pistol belt and knives at the lobby desk.
Our reluctant host ushers us to an exquisite parlour. Mr. Trevor gives me one more disapproving once over before going to find the man we are here to see.
I locate a big comfy chair and pull out my clay pipe. I think back on our desperate flight last night through Ipswich. It was a near thing indeed, that we made it to the docks, for there was a bushel of nasty kritters that wanted to do us in. I think I am proving to be fairly adept at this slash and thrust sort of thing with the new emerald blade. I was doing pretty well against the wormy insects, up until… hunh… Things faded out for a bit. I feel as if there is a span of time that I have lost from memory. Did I dream it, or did Miss Plumtartt actually call me by my Christian name? I have a vague impression that she did. Miss Plumtartt’s distinctive and lyrical voice calling my first name. ‘Ichabod.’ In fact, good golly, I think I took that incredible woman in my arms! I held her and carried her! I had almost quite forgotten! The last thing I remember before this is running through the streets, making for the now smashed Ipswich docks. There is a muddy blur in my memory. I think something important happened between Miss Plumtartt and me, but I can’t bring it to mind. What could have happened that I would forget such close contact with such a beautiful girl?
Hey, a gentleman has just walked into our parlour. He is of stout girth, fancy dress, and an arrogant attitude. I can tell straight away he is not the man we are to meet. Rather, he is quite a rude fellow with a German accent.
I stand up to meet him but he dismisses me as being beneath his contempt, barely giving me a glance before he is all over Miss Plumtartt.
Like black on coal, like white on rice, like stink on a Junebug, this Teutonic Lothario is putting himself forward against Miss Plumtartt.
I ain’t liking this a bit.
But I promised to be good.
This slimey son of a gun has not stopped staring at Miss Plumtartt. She is a pretty girl, and easy to look at, but this big jerk is openly ogling a proper young lady. He is making Miss Plumtartt uncomfortable and I am getting hot.
But I promised to be good.
“Mein scrumptious strudel! You have zee pleasure of meeting,” (Brightly shining booted heels click sharply together.) “Herr Doktor Rudolph Himmel!”
Herr Doktor Rudolph Himmel tries to impress Miss Plumtartt with a long list of family titles, scholarly credentials and enough following initials to start a new language with.
“So, Fraulein Plumtartt,” drools the passionate Prussian. He wedges a thick monocle into position to get a better look. He is leering at Miss Plumtartt in a most inappropriately familiar manner! “normally I would be staunchly against allowing der female entrance to mein clubbe, but for a
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