Read Online The Devil's Company by David Liss - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Liss
Tags: Fiction, Historical fiction, General, detective, Suspense, Historical, Mystery & Detective, American Mystery & Suspense Fiction, Mystery, Private Investigators, Fiction - Mystery, Mystery & Detective - General, Jewish, London (England), Jews, American Historical Fiction, Mystery & Detective - Historical, Weaver; Benjamin (Fictitious character)
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regard,” Cobb said easily. “Nor must we apply poetical theory to human affairs. I beg you, nephew, not to mistake cruelty for strategy. Though we force his hand at the first, we want Mr. Weaver as our friend when all is settled.” He turned to me. “The third man we have so set upon is a Mr. Moses Franco, a neighbor of yours, I am told, and a particular friend.”
I felt my color rising. The outrage of having my closest relation and dearest friend put under this burden was terrible enough, but to bear the responsibility for a man to whom I had so slight a connection was even worse. My uncle and Elias knew and trusted me and would have faith that I would do all I could in their service, but to see a man, hardly more than an acquaintance, dangle by the thread of my compliance drove me to distraction.
“Franco?” I spat. “The man is nothing to me. Why draw him into this madness?”
Hammond let out a chortle. “Nothing to you? Rot.”
Cobb rubbed his hands together gently, mournfully, like a physician looking for the words to deliver an unpleasant prognosis. “I was led to believe, sir, that there is a connection between you and the Jewess, Miss Gabriella Franco. Do I not have the right of it?”
“You do not,” I told him.
It had been for some three years or more my greatest wish to marry my cousin’s widow, Miriam, but that affair ended badly and with no hope of felicitous resolution. Though my uncle Miguel had sought that union, he too understood that the fortress lay in ruins, and he had accordingly made some efforts to secure matches for me that would be, in his mind, advantageous to my domestic economy and happiness. Though it was my habit to resist these advances, I would, on occasion, call upon a lady of his choosing if I thought her of sufficient interest. Miss Franco was indeed a very fine woman with a sprightly character and a distractingly pleasing shape. Should a man marry for shape alone, I declare I should have already surrendered myself to Hymen’s estate. Yet there must be other considerations, not the least of which is match in temperament. While I found her agreeable in many ways, for Miss Franco seemed all but designed to appeal to a prodigious quantity of my tastes in the more delicate sex, the lady was of a sort more to appeal to my casual rather than matrimonial impulses. Were she not the daughter of a friend of my uncle’s, and a man I had come to esteem upon my own account, I might have pursued a connection of a less permanent nature, but I refrained out of respect for my uncle and the lady’s father. Ultimately it was of little moment, for after I had made three or four visits to the Franco house, where I developed, I daresay, as much of a liking for the father as the daughter, the young lady’s grandmother had fallen gravely ill in Salonica, and the lovely angel immediately departed to care for her relation.
Though I had meant to continue a friendship with the very agreeable father, I had not yet had the opportunity to pursue the matter. I feared there would be no strong bonds of friendship forming now that I was certainly the source of the most imposing and unjust distress.
“I have no obligation to the Franco family nor that family to me,” I announced. “Their affairs are of little more interest to me than of any other casual acquaintance of my neighborhood. I ask that you not involve them in our concerns.”
“’Pon my honor,” Hammond called out, “it would seem the plight of the stranger causes him more distress than the plight of a friend. I think we’ll leave Mr. Franco’s debts safely—which is to say, precariously—in our charge.”
Cobb shook his head. “I am sorry, but my nephew has the right of it. Perhaps if you prove yourself a willing partner, we can release him soon. In the meantime, as it appears to offer some guarantee of your cooperation, we shall hold on to Mr. Franco’s credit.”
“You are mistaken,” I said in a low voice,
I felt my color rising. The outrage of having my closest relation and dearest friend put under this burden was terrible enough, but to bear the responsibility for a man to whom I had so slight a connection was even worse. My uncle and Elias knew and trusted me and would have faith that I would do all I could in their service, but to see a man, hardly more than an acquaintance, dangle by the thread of my compliance drove me to distraction.
“Franco?” I spat. “The man is nothing to me. Why draw him into this madness?”
Hammond let out a chortle. “Nothing to you? Rot.”
Cobb rubbed his hands together gently, mournfully, like a physician looking for the words to deliver an unpleasant prognosis. “I was led to believe, sir, that there is a connection between you and the Jewess, Miss Gabriella Franco. Do I not have the right of it?”
“You do not,” I told him.
It had been for some three years or more my greatest wish to marry my cousin’s widow, Miriam, but that affair ended badly and with no hope of felicitous resolution. Though my uncle Miguel had sought that union, he too understood that the fortress lay in ruins, and he had accordingly made some efforts to secure matches for me that would be, in his mind, advantageous to my domestic economy and happiness. Though it was my habit to resist these advances, I would, on occasion, call upon a lady of his choosing if I thought her of sufficient interest. Miss Franco was indeed a very fine woman with a sprightly character and a distractingly pleasing shape. Should a man marry for shape alone, I declare I should have already surrendered myself to Hymen’s estate. Yet there must be other considerations, not the least of which is match in temperament. While I found her agreeable in many ways, for Miss Franco seemed all but designed to appeal to a prodigious quantity of my tastes in the more delicate sex, the lady was of a sort more to appeal to my casual rather than matrimonial impulses. Were she not the daughter of a friend of my uncle’s, and a man I had come to esteem upon my own account, I might have pursued a connection of a less permanent nature, but I refrained out of respect for my uncle and the lady’s father. Ultimately it was of little moment, for after I had made three or four visits to the Franco house, where I developed, I daresay, as much of a liking for the father as the daughter, the young lady’s grandmother had fallen gravely ill in Salonica, and the lovely angel immediately departed to care for her relation.
Though I had meant to continue a friendship with the very agreeable father, I had not yet had the opportunity to pursue the matter. I feared there would be no strong bonds of friendship forming now that I was certainly the source of the most imposing and unjust distress.
“I have no obligation to the Franco family nor that family to me,” I announced. “Their affairs are of little more interest to me than of any other casual acquaintance of my neighborhood. I ask that you not involve them in our concerns.”
“’Pon my honor,” Hammond called out, “it would seem the plight of the stranger causes him more distress than the plight of a friend. I think we’ll leave Mr. Franco’s debts safely—which is to say, precariously—in our charge.”
Cobb shook his head. “I am sorry, but my nephew has the right of it. Perhaps if you prove yourself a willing partner, we can release him soon. In the meantime, as it appears to offer some guarantee of your cooperation, we shall hold on to Mr. Franco’s credit.”
“You are mistaken,” I said in a low voice,
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