Armand’s First Letter. Amelia’s First Letter. Cathy’s First Letter.

7 June 1024, Bois-de-Bas

Amelia, dearest sister-to-be,

When one contemplates marriage, it is only proper to notify one’s family. Lt. Harkness made the effort to see Brother John’s approval for his courtship, and received a dismissive welcome; His Napes and I, wiser in the ways of the eccentric, simply stopped by Brother John’s house for tea this past Monday.

You would think he would know already, as the banns were read three times at Mass; but John did not attend divine services in Nexinghamshire, nor does he here in Bois-de-Bas, nor has he ever attended to much of anything beyond his work.

Indeed, it seems he rarely leaves the house these days. With Armand’s patronage he has a steady supply of materials for his endeavors, and has produced a stream of devices that mingle wizardry and forming in seemingly useless ways. Of what use, I ask you, is a small box that when touched in a certain spot rises into the air and flies in a circle, cawing like a crow, until one grabs it and touches that spot again?

I asked Armand over dinner last week whether he was not losing hope.

“By no means,” he told me. “Each of these magical knick-knacks of your brother’s is a trial in mingling forming with Cumbrian wizardry in some new way. Most are likely of little value, but it only takes one or two on which to build a product for sale—provided one understands what one is doing. Tuppenny Wagons began in just such a small way.”

John flits from one to the next like a hummingbird, always excited, always driven, and writing very little down, but Master Luc has accumulated a vast collection of notes on the techniques used in constructing each item, and on the item’s intended, actual, and unintended effects. More, he has several apprentices engaged in putting the items through their paces, seeking to delineate how they function in practice.

“They are also looking at durability,” Armand told me. “Especially that. These trifles work now, but will they continue to work indefinitely, or will they suddenly fail, leading to catastrophe?”

It seems that one of Armand’s creations, a sky-sled he called it, burst into fragments while Marc Frontenac was riding it. Fortunately Marc was traveling slowly, low over drifted snow, and so was not seriously hurt.

“It was only then that I went beyond dabbling into serious study,” he said. “As a result, Tuppenny Wagons can produce reliable sky-wagons, caravans, and packets where others have failed. Your brother’s work may yet lead to even bigger things.” He shrugged. “If so, we will need to bring in another wizard to put anything into production, but in the meantime we have an ever-increasing stockpile of research from which to draw our inspirations.” 

So Brother John’s future is assured, at least for the present.

As I say, His Napes and I arrived at tea-time; Brother John rises early to begin work, and so is more easily distractible later in the afternoon. Armand’s people had warned John’s housekeeper of our coming—yes, John has been provided with a housekeeper; the folk of Bois-de-Bas have standards, which John would quite fail to meet otherwise. Tea was therefore set for four: John, Master Luc, His Napes, and me.

John shuffled in to the sitting room, Master Luc trailing behind, and seemed rather taken aback to see his. He gave His Napes the eye, then turned to me.

“Cathy,” he said. “Why are you here? Thought you’d married that lieutenant.”

“Ah, no,” I said.

“Why not? He seemed quite eager. Quite a bother he was, until I sent him packing.”

“He’s returned to Cumbria. I couldn’t go with him, of course.” 

John frowned, then brightened. “Oh, yes, the curse. I’d forgotten.” Then he frowned again. “He preferred Cumbria to you, then, the blackguard.”

I shrugged. “The lieutenant is a good man. I simply didn’t want to marry him, and I told him so.”

“Foolishness,” he said. “Now what will you do with yourself?”

“I’ll continue on at the Two Sloops, of course. And besides, I’ve discovered that I want to marry Jack, here.” 

“And who are you, sir?” said my brother, with some asperity.

Need I remind you, Amelia, that Brother John met His Napes on the one occasion he came to the Sloops?

Jack smiled and bowed his head. “Captain Jack Montjoy, retired,” he said. “I’m the proprietor of the Two Sloops Inn, where your sister has been employed these past months.”

“He’s also the brother of Max Archer’s wife, Amelia,” I said.

Brother John’s eyebrows rose. “Is he really?”

“He is.”

“Well. Perhaps I should attend your engagement ball, then.” He seemed both pleased and distressed at the idea.

“Not to worry, dear brother, for there shan’t be one,” I said. “But we will expect you to attend the wedding in September, without fail.”

“And what month is it now?”

“June,” said Master Luc, who had been silent thus far.

Brother John waved his hand as if to throw this away. “September? Pah! Might as well be a thousand miles away. Luc will remind me. And now, I must go back to work.” Raising his cup, he slurped his tea down to the bottom; and setting it down he rose, took two biscuits, and was gone. Luc grimaced an apology, tapped his temple with a fore-finger, and followed him.

“That went well,” I said.

“I’m glad I didn’t bother asking for his consent,” said His Napes.

I shook my head. “As if I’d let him decide,” I said. 

We finished our tea in peace, and then His Napes took me back to Armand and Amelie’s.

On the way he asked, “Doesn’t he care about you at all?”

“Oh, yes. You saw how he responded when I told him that Harkness had returned to Cumbria instead of staying here with me. If I can’t be useful to him, he at least wants me to be happy in whatever it is I’m doing instead. He simply doesn’t care about whatever it is I’m doing instead. A very focused man, my brother.” A thought struck me. “He was delighted when Max brought Amelia to meet us. Though, I wonder if his long friendship with Max was based on Max’s willingness to go along with his schemes.”

He shook his head. “I can’t understand him. I shall be delighted to see m’sister and Maximilian, and m’parents, and I plan to spend as much time with them as I can spare from your duties while they are with us.”

“Will you? And what of time with your bride?”

“That will be the chiefest of my duties, my ‘darlin, and one I shall carry out with diligence and delight.”

“See that you do,” I said, and gave his arm a squeeze.

And now, having fulfilled my own familial duties, I must simply wait for September.

Cathy

Next letter

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