Read Online Death Among the Ruins by Pamela Christie - Free Book Online
Authors: Pamela Christie
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novelty.
“If you would not think it obtrusive of me, Miss Beaumont,” said he, “I should like to know the reason for your coming to Naples. It can scarcely be amusement or recreation this late in the season.”
“You have hit the nail squarely upon the head, Mr. Elliot,” she replied. “Recreation it is! I am engaged in the pursuit of art. Quite literally, in fact.”
She thought it better to keep back the details, not because she feared his disapproval, but to encourage him to talk more about himself, and in so doing, fall in love with her. So far, he had managed to turn the tables, and she was falling in love with him . It was not supposed to work this way. But there was plenty of time. Arabella planned to see a great deal of Mr. Elliot—every inch of him, in fact—during their stay in Italy.
But they had no sooner reached the Bay of Naples, than the Perseverance met with the Sea Lion, a xebec bound for England. Both ships hove to, and a boat was rowed out from the one vessel to the other, to facilitate the transfer of Mr. Elliot and his valet back to London, whither the regent had commanded his immediate return.
“The regent? What does he want you for?” asked Arabella, who was so distressed at the thought of his leaving that she steeled herself to listen to a lengthy discourse on the details of political in-fighting and government protocol.
“God knows,” said Elliot gloomily, watching his valet pack the rest of his things. (There wasn’t much to be done, above cleaning and re-packing his fork and knife. The Perseverance had been about to dock, after all.) “I shall be candid with you, Miss Beaumont. The regent is a man quite given to fits of whimsy. Everyone knows that, of course, but only those of us in close contact with him apprehend the extent of it. If you were to offer me diamonds enough to fill this cabin, on the sole condition that I change places with the regent’s valet for a week, I should not do it.”
“ I might,” said Elliot’s valet, sotto voce.
“I wonder whether you would, Malton, if you actually knew what you’d be letting yourself in for.”
“Will you not give me an example?” Arabella asked.
“An example? Dear lady, I could give a thousand! Instead, I shall give you two. Often, in the night, the regent wakes, and wants a glass of water. That is natural enough. A carafe and tumbler stand filled and ready on his nightstand for this very purpose. But he ignores them, and instead rings for his valet. Because he wants the water handed to him, do you see. At three or four in the morning. And this can happen up to seven or eight times on any given night.
“He also keeps his watch there, next the carafe. But when he wants to know the time, which he frequently does—he only ever sleeps in fits and starts—the regent rings. Because he does not want to turn his head and look at his watch. He wants to be told the time. And consider: His requests for the time are separate from, and in addition to, his requests for water.”
Elliot turned to Arabella. “I’ll give you odds that when I arrive in London, his reason for bringing me home, whatever it was, will have passed, and he’ll say, ‘I don’t want you now, dammit! I needed you five days ago when you were not here!”
At the word “odds,” Charles pricked up his ears. “You’re on!” he cried. “Shall we say, half a crown? Half a crown, for a half-witted sovereign!”
“No, Charles,” said Arabella. “I am opposed to regicide on general principle, but I think I might be persuaded of its efficacy, under certain circumstances.”
“What would be the use? In that event we should just get one of his brothers on the throne, all of whom are, to varying degrees, vulgar, witless, mad, and corrupt.”
“It is good to have a monarchy, though,” she ventured. “If only for the holiday afforded by the king’s birthday.”
The captain knocked upon the open door. “Dinghy’s ready when you are, sir.”
Elliot
“If you would not think it obtrusive of me, Miss Beaumont,” said he, “I should like to know the reason for your coming to Naples. It can scarcely be amusement or recreation this late in the season.”
“You have hit the nail squarely upon the head, Mr. Elliot,” she replied. “Recreation it is! I am engaged in the pursuit of art. Quite literally, in fact.”
She thought it better to keep back the details, not because she feared his disapproval, but to encourage him to talk more about himself, and in so doing, fall in love with her. So far, he had managed to turn the tables, and she was falling in love with him . It was not supposed to work this way. But there was plenty of time. Arabella planned to see a great deal of Mr. Elliot—every inch of him, in fact—during their stay in Italy.
But they had no sooner reached the Bay of Naples, than the Perseverance met with the Sea Lion, a xebec bound for England. Both ships hove to, and a boat was rowed out from the one vessel to the other, to facilitate the transfer of Mr. Elliot and his valet back to London, whither the regent had commanded his immediate return.
“The regent? What does he want you for?” asked Arabella, who was so distressed at the thought of his leaving that she steeled herself to listen to a lengthy discourse on the details of political in-fighting and government protocol.
“God knows,” said Elliot gloomily, watching his valet pack the rest of his things. (There wasn’t much to be done, above cleaning and re-packing his fork and knife. The Perseverance had been about to dock, after all.) “I shall be candid with you, Miss Beaumont. The regent is a man quite given to fits of whimsy. Everyone knows that, of course, but only those of us in close contact with him apprehend the extent of it. If you were to offer me diamonds enough to fill this cabin, on the sole condition that I change places with the regent’s valet for a week, I should not do it.”
“ I might,” said Elliot’s valet, sotto voce.
“I wonder whether you would, Malton, if you actually knew what you’d be letting yourself in for.”
“Will you not give me an example?” Arabella asked.
“An example? Dear lady, I could give a thousand! Instead, I shall give you two. Often, in the night, the regent wakes, and wants a glass of water. That is natural enough. A carafe and tumbler stand filled and ready on his nightstand for this very purpose. But he ignores them, and instead rings for his valet. Because he wants the water handed to him, do you see. At three or four in the morning. And this can happen up to seven or eight times on any given night.
“He also keeps his watch there, next the carafe. But when he wants to know the time, which he frequently does—he only ever sleeps in fits and starts—the regent rings. Because he does not want to turn his head and look at his watch. He wants to be told the time. And consider: His requests for the time are separate from, and in addition to, his requests for water.”
Elliot turned to Arabella. “I’ll give you odds that when I arrive in London, his reason for bringing me home, whatever it was, will have passed, and he’ll say, ‘I don’t want you now, dammit! I needed you five days ago when you were not here!”
At the word “odds,” Charles pricked up his ears. “You’re on!” he cried. “Shall we say, half a crown? Half a crown, for a half-witted sovereign!”
“No, Charles,” said Arabella. “I am opposed to regicide on general principle, but I think I might be persuaded of its efficacy, under certain circumstances.”
“What would be the use? In that event we should just get one of his brothers on the throne, all of whom are, to varying degrees, vulgar, witless, mad, and corrupt.”
“It is good to have a monarchy, though,” she ventured. “If only for the holiday afforded by the king’s birthday.”
The captain knocked upon the open door. “Dinghy’s ready when you are, sir.”
Elliot
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