| General Fiction posted January 15, 2021 |
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Short story
Perplexed.
by zanya
There was a knock on the door.
'Who the devil is knocking at this late hour?,' Sir Edward mused as his green quill moved graciously across the page of vellum that lay on the oak desk. He had finished writing his stylised signature at the bottom. He wanted to be sure that all was clear to Lady Amanda. After all, marriage was a very important subject matter.
His mind was firmly made up. Conversing with Lord Barton, having spent the day galloping across hills and dales, helped him to see the matter more clearly. Lord Barton, whose estate lay a short distance away, was a confidant and the pair discussed matters over a revivifying glass of brandy.
Edward hoped that papa, Squire Anselm, would understand.
Papa was so conservative. After all, it was 1946 and the war was but a memory. Time to have a little fun. Marriage, at least not yet, was not in his plans. His father's Highford estate would naturally be bequeathed to him in the fullness of time.
'Who else was entitled?'
Papa had produced only one son from his aristocratic loins.
Having affixed the red waxen seal to the ivory-colored envelope, he strode towards the wooden entrance door.
'Time to see who is choosing to call at this late hour on a snowy, January night,' he mused.
A frisson of fear took hold of his thirty-year-old heart.
His father's broad-shouldered silhouette was unmistakable against the blanket of fallen snow. His favourite diamond cufflinks glinted in the moonlight.
'Papa, I was not expecting you until tomorrow,' Sir Edward blurted out.
'Yes--yes,' Sir Anselm replied.
'We have matters to discuss,' Sir Anselm stated matter-of-factly.
Sir Edward's earlier joie de vivre began to dissipate. He moved nervously through the study door, inviting his father to join him.
'I have returned early from London, hoping you had not already left on your travels abroad,' Sir Anselm stated.
'Why, Father, the matter must be indeed urgent to cause you to set out in such wintry conditions.'
Sir Anselm didn't respond immediately.
Then clearing his throat, he began, 'I trust you and Lady Amanda have advanced your courtship and will soon plight your troth,' Sir Anselm declared.
Reaching towards the study desk, Sir Edward discreetly lifted the envelope with the red seal and put it into his breeches pocket.
'Our courtship is well advanced Father, our marriage is not yet ...'
'Not yet what..' Sir Anselm shot back,' if you do not intend to marry soon, then I have no other option but to bequeath my estate to my illegitimate son, Marquis Henri, some years your junior, who resides presently in Paris. As your ageing father, I am obliged to make necessary arrangements.'
'Illegit..Paris.. bequeath,' Sir Edward blurted out, barely able to comprehend the words tumbling out in quick succession from his usually taciturn father.
'My lover, his mother, Madame Lefrois, insists that Marquis Henri come to live here at the estate. Being well acquainted with husbandry, Henri would tend to estate matters, while you, Sir Edward, are still behaving like a gadfly, unable to decide which woman may take your fancy.
Marquis Henri's spouse, La Marquise Elise, is already heavy with her second child, hopefully, another grandson for the estate.'
Sir Edward woke with a start. A few remaining embers still glowed in the fireplace. The letter with the wax seal was crinkled in the side pocket of his beige breeches.
Perplexed and rubbing his eyes, he walked to the entrance door and opened it. The oak door creaked noisily. Snowflakes swirled quietly down on the landscape.
'What if..' he wondered.
' What if...papa didn't wait for my reply to his knock on the door?'
Glancing downwards, he noticed his father's cufflink glinting in the fallen snow.
*****************************************
Sentence writing prompt entry
There was a knock on the door.
'Who the devil is knocking at this late hour?,' Sir Edward mused as his green quill moved graciously across the page of vellum that lay on the oak desk. He had finished writing his stylised signature at the bottom. He wanted to be sure that all was clear to Lady Amanda. After all, marriage was a very important subject matter.
His mind was firmly made up. Conversing with Lord Barton, having spent the day galloping across hills and dales, helped him to see the matter more clearly. Lord Barton, whose estate lay a short distance away, was a confidant and the pair discussed matters over a revivifying glass of brandy.
Edward hoped that papa, Squire Anselm, would understand.
Papa was so conservative. After all, it was 1946 and the war was but a memory. Time to have a little fun. Marriage, at least not yet, was not in his plans. His father's Highford estate would naturally be bequeathed to him in the fullness of time.
'Who else was entitled?'
Papa had produced only one son from his aristocratic loins.
Having affixed the red waxen seal to the ivory-colored envelope, he strode towards the wooden entrance door.
'Time to see who is choosing to call at this late hour on a snowy, January night,' he mused.
A frisson of fear took hold of his thirty-year-old heart.
His father's broad-shouldered silhouette was unmistakable against the blanket of fallen snow. His favourite diamond cufflinks glinted in the moonlight.
'Papa, I was not expecting you until tomorrow,' Sir Edward blurted out.
'Yes--yes,' Sir Anselm replied.
'We have matters to discuss,' Sir Anselm stated matter-of-factly.
Sir Edward's earlier joie de vivre began to dissipate. He moved nervously through the study door, inviting his father to join him.
'I have returned early from London, hoping you had not already left on your travels abroad,' Sir Anselm stated.
'Why, Father, the matter must be indeed urgent to cause you to set out in such wintry conditions.'
Sir Anselm didn't respond immediately.
Then clearing his throat, he began, 'I trust you and Lady Amanda have advanced your courtship and will soon plight your troth,' Sir Anselm declared.
Reaching towards the study desk, Sir Edward discreetly lifted the envelope with the red seal and put it into his breeches pocket.
'Our courtship is well advanced Father, our marriage is not yet ...'
'Not yet what..' Sir Anselm shot back,' if you do not intend to marry soon, then I have no other option but to bequeath my estate to my illegitimate son, Marquis Henri, some years your junior, who resides presently in Paris. As your ageing father, I am obliged to make necessary arrangements.'
'Illegit..Paris.. bequeath,' Sir Edward blurted out, barely able to comprehend the words tumbling out in quick succession from his usually taciturn father.
'My lover, his mother, Madame Lefrois, insists that Marquis Henri come to live here at the estate. Being well acquainted with husbandry, Henri would tend to estate matters, while you, Sir Edward, are still behaving like a gadfly, unable to decide which woman may take your fancy.
Marquis Henri's spouse, La Marquise Elise, is already heavy with her second child, hopefully, another grandson for the estate.'
Sir Edward woke with a start. A few remaining embers still glowed in the fireplace. The letter with the wax seal was crinkled in the side pocket of his beige breeches.
Perplexed and rubbing his eyes, he walked to the entrance door and opened it. The oak door creaked noisily. Snowflakes swirled quietly down on the landscape.
'What if..' he wondered.
' What if...papa didn't wait for my reply to his knock on the door?'
Glancing downwards, he noticed his father's cufflink glinting in the fallen snow.
*****************************************
'Who the devil is knocking at this late hour?,' Sir Edward mused as his green quill moved graciously across the page of vellum that lay on the oak desk. He had finished writing his stylised signature at the bottom. He wanted to be sure that all was clear to Lady Amanda. After all, marriage was a very important subject matter.
His mind was firmly made up. Conversing with Lord Barton, having spent the day galloping across hills and dales, helped him to see the matter more clearly. Lord Barton, whose estate lay a short distance away, was a confidant and the pair discussed matters over a revivifying glass of brandy.
Edward hoped that papa, Squire Anselm, would understand.
Papa was so conservative. After all, it was 1946 and the war was but a memory. Time to have a little fun. Marriage, at least not yet, was not in his plans. His father's Highford estate would naturally be bequeathed to him in the fullness of time.
'Who else was entitled?'
Papa had produced only one son from his aristocratic loins.
Having affixed the red waxen seal to the ivory-colored envelope, he strode towards the wooden entrance door.
'Time to see who is choosing to call at this late hour on a snowy, January night,' he mused.
A frisson of fear took hold of his thirty-year-old heart.
His father's broad-shouldered silhouette was unmistakable against the blanket of fallen snow. His favourite diamond cufflinks glinted in the moonlight.
'Papa, I was not expecting you until tomorrow,' Sir Edward blurted out.
'Yes--yes,' Sir Anselm replied.
'We have matters to discuss,' Sir Anselm stated matter-of-factly.
Sir Edward's earlier joie de vivre began to dissipate. He moved nervously through the study door, inviting his father to join him.
'I have returned early from London, hoping you had not already left on your travels abroad,' Sir Anselm stated.
'Why, Father, the matter must be indeed urgent to cause you to set out in such wintry conditions.'
Sir Anselm didn't respond immediately.
Then clearing his throat, he began, 'I trust you and Lady Amanda have advanced your courtship and will soon plight your troth,' Sir Anselm declared.
Reaching towards the study desk, Sir Edward discreetly lifted the envelope with the red seal and put it into his breeches pocket.
'Our courtship is well advanced Father, our marriage is not yet ...'
'Not yet what..' Sir Anselm shot back,' if you do not intend to marry soon, then I have no other option but to bequeath my estate to my illegitimate son, Marquis Henri, some years your junior, who resides presently in Paris. As your ageing father, I am obliged to make necessary arrangements.'
'Illegit..Paris.. bequeath,' Sir Edward blurted out, barely able to comprehend the words tumbling out in quick succession from his usually taciturn father.
'My lover, his mother, Madame Lefrois, insists that Marquis Henri come to live here at the estate. Being well acquainted with husbandry, Henri would tend to estate matters, while you, Sir Edward, are still behaving like a gadfly, unable to decide which woman may take your fancy.
Marquis Henri's spouse, La Marquise Elise, is already heavy with her second child, hopefully, another grandson for the estate.'
Sir Edward woke with a start. A few remaining embers still glowed in the fireplace. The letter with the wax seal was crinkled in the side pocket of his beige breeches.
Perplexed and rubbing his eyes, he walked to the entrance door and opened it. The oak door creaked noisily. Snowflakes swirled quietly down on the landscape.
'What if..' he wondered.
' What if...papa didn't wait for my reply to his knock on the door?'
Glancing downwards, he noticed his father's cufflink glinting in the fallen snow.
*****************************************
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Writing Prompt Write a story that starts with this sentence: There was a knock on the door. |
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