Jane and the Canterbury Tale Read Free Page B

the very bloom of her youth. My anxiety is that she will end her days like my sister, Cassandra, or God forbid, like
me:
Content enough, to be sure, and freed of all the cares attendant upon marriage and children—but lingering, and dwindling, on the fringe of a world she once claimed as her birthright. I could not bear for Fanny to be merely everyone’s
aunt
. And her apprenticeship in that order was already marked: She had been so busy preparing the boys for Winchester, and compelling the girls to see the London dentist, and ordering the cook which joints were for the table, and which for the kitchen, and overseeing the stillroom, and ensuring that her father’s every comfort was met, so that he might be observed to feel the loss of his cherished wife as little as possible—that the poor child was quite worn out. Fanny had been forced to the management of a great household at too young an age, and it was a wonder she did not choose the sanctuary of a convent, over the gaieties of a ball.
    Further debate was suspended, however, for the bride had chosen to speak.
    Adelaide’s voice was clear and deep, with a musical timbre, and her white hand seemed almost translucent as she lifted her glass.
    “To my gallant husband, Captain Andrew MacCallister—may God preserve him from harm as he serves King and Country, and return him to
this
loving heart, which has such cause to know his unexampled worth.”
    We drank to this, and had only just drained our glasses dry, when a singular interruption occurred.
    A footman belonging to the Castle made his way through the throng, bearing a curious item on a silver tray. It was a small silken pouch of a warm rosy colour, intricately embroidered in gold threads, and knotted with tassels. The servant’sobject was clearly Adelaide MacCallister, and as she watched him approach, her lips curved in a smile as tho’ she was expecting a childish treat. If the peculiarity of the purse being delivered in the midst of a ball were not enough to silence the assembled guests, the bride’s response certainly was.
    “Is this your doing, Andrew?” she demanded as the footman bowed, and presented his prize.
    But her husband laughingly declined all knowledge of the gift.
    “Very well,” she cried. “Whom must I thank for this beautiful reticule? Some one of our guests? Or—
Julian!
Have you made over to me all your unscrupulous winnings, from playing at lottery tickets with our dashing cousins?”
    There was a ripple of amusement from the onlookers, but no Julian Thane appeared to answer his sister; he must be absent from the ballroom.
    “How came this here?” the bride asked as she took up the silken pouch.
    “I received it of a stranger at the front door, ma’am,” the footman said.
    Mrs. MacCallister’s eager fingers stilled, and to my surprize, I saw the colour slowly ebb from her cheeks.
    “A gift to the bride on the occasion of her wedding, the man said.”
    “Man? What sort of man?”
    “A common enough fellow, ma’am. He did not give his name—and I neglected to ask it, perceiving him to be merely the bearer of another’s gift.”
    She nodded faintly, and took the thing from the tray—but with an expression of such dread on her countenance now that I felt an answering chill trace its finger along my spine.
    “My darling,” Captain MacCallister murmured. “Are you unwell?”
    “Nothing I regard.” She loosed the strings of the pouch with deft fingers, and tipped the contents into her palm.
    If I had expected a pile of rubies, I was fated to disappointment. The pouch contained nothing but a quantity of dark brown beans, rather like coffee only twice as large; several slipped from Adelaide MacCallister’s fingers, and scattered on the ballroom floor.
    A murmur of conjecture rose from the assembled guests, and I glanced at my brother Edward, curious to know what he made of the anonymous gift; his eyes were narrowed, but his countenance betrayed only a vague puzzlement. I