The Two Confessions John Whitbourn (best books for students to read txt) 📖

all of itdirectly related. There was a promising symmetry about now risking everythingon a sequel.

Previousvisits to Galen House had been closely chaperoned, not to mention minutelymonitored (as was only proper). It genuinely hadn't occurred to Samuel toattempt anything more venturesome. Whatever his ways in the snakepit of'business', this was one asset where nothing less than proper title would do.

Shewas in a summer dress of yellow and blue. Her bonnet matched. He found it hardto meet her glacier coloured eyes. If he did there was the danger of imaginingher spread-eagled on his bed - or the floor of the orangery, or anywhere at allright now - in front of him. He couldn't afford that distraction.Otherwise though, so long as lust did not intrude, he was all single-minded andsteely. He just wished the erection would go away.

‘Wellthen...,’ she said. Her voice was deep, always provoking mild surprise.

Samuelcouldn't be doing with small talk: he wasn't up to it. Never had been and neverless than now. He'd primed himself for this, rehearsed to the point ofweariness and polished words till they wore out. Rejecting them accordingly,he’d then hit on pretending he was negotiating a trade deal of infinite import.Somewhere in his London office there was now a decision-tree drawn up, a tanglythicket of contract-breaker evasion detours and multiple fallback positions.He’d not needed to bring it with him: long acquaintance had burnt everytightrope line deep into his brain.

Inshort, none of Trevan’s rifles had ever been so carefully loaded. And now heinstantly forgot the lot.

‘Hashe spoken to you?’ he asked her. His tenseness made him sound blunt.

‘Haswho?’

‘Yourfather,’ Samuel snapped. ‘Who d’you think?’

‘Yes.Of course.’

Sonow they were almost at the precipice; the real deal. One step more and theconsequences went on forever. Samuel didn't waver, but strode boldly to thevery edge.

‘And?’he asked.

Melissashrugged her shoulders.

‘Whatelse can I say? I'm a dutiful daughter.’

Shealmost never maintained a stare; her wicked eyes usually flitted to and fro.People often grievously mistook her for a nervous type. But not now. She andSamuel locked glances. They couldn't disengage without one or the other somehowlosing... something. His insides were knots of ice.

‘That'snot enough,’ he said.

The tone wascommendably strong - and a fraud. He’d forced himself to speak. There was noneed for it; he'd won what he wanted. Yet he also wanted more. Just this onetime, in this one case, he desired free agreement rather than a conquest. Thatwish was overpowering. He'd offered his throat to fate's razor the once and survived.Now there had to be a second pass. Utter ruin started its run-up.

‘Isn'tit?’ she shot back. He didn't know if that was a real question or if she wasplaying with him - whilst she still could. He'd have his revenge, he swore it.

‘No,not enough,’ he said. ‘Not for me. Not in... this instance.’

Melissanodded gravely and looked down, breaking the confrontation. Samuel felt like abull with a musket, or some thick-fingered giant fumbling with delicate clockinnards. The pit was calling to him and he imagined what life-long descent intoits blackness might be like. Falling for ever and ever. Into absolute cold. Atomb before the tomb.

Melissawas looking at him again, but this time he couldn't meet her gaze.

‘Iassumed you knew, Samuel.’

Heshook his head: it occupied years.

‘Obviouslynot. Humour me.’

Melissasmiled.

‘Ifully intend to, from now on and forever. You’re for me, Samuel: I’m for you.Father pushed at an open door. I'd far rather have a gentle man than any gentleman....’

Hefelt... nothing, surprisingly - but was confident the full carnival andfireworks would arrive in due course, once feelings fought off the paralysis offear.

‘I...I shall always be careful,’ he said, reaching out to take her smallhand. She consented to it. ‘And kind. I shall always be kind - to you.’

************

He'dadded those final two words because he was in many ways an honest soul. Samuelknew full well he couldn't promise to be kind to everyone. That hadn't alwaysbeen possible in the last few years: nor was it the way of the world, whateverits Creator might command. It would be enough - and more than most everattempted - to be continually kind to one beloved at least.

Hedrove back to London at the crack of dawn. The April day rose especially golden,to Samuel's eyes anyway. It wouldn't last, this suffusing of the world withglee, but he made the most of it. At East Grinstead, en route, pausing to dine,he gave a ragged Walsingham pilgrim a guinea. Enough to get him there in lordlystyle!

InWhitechapel that free and generous spirit had to be put back in the box toawait more suitable surroundings for an outing. There were production targetsto be checked and slacking to be sniffed out. He’d hired some good foremen butthings only went at their best when everyone felt the terror of his breath ontheir necks.

Thatnight, though it was late and he was drained, he celebrated in his usual mannersince coming into both London and money. Selecting two choice painted whoresfrom Seething Lane, he had them in the factory office, monstering their privyparts with especial zeal and zest. Then, afterwards, his secret gladnessinspired him to tip them lavishly for their time and trouble and soreness, sothat even they should - unknowingly - share his joy.

************

From:'THE LEWES TIMES &PIOUS INTELLIGENCER'.

The22nd of April 1994 AD.

'... Mr and Mrs Melville FARNCOMBE are pleased to announce thecommencement of banns of marriage between their only daughter, MELISSA FAITH,spinster of the Parish of St Michael-in-Lewes; and SAMUEL MELCHIZEDEK TREVAN,late of Cliffe, Lewes; bachelor of the Parish of St Simon-the-zealot,Whitechapel, London, in the County of Middlesex.

Deo volente, a High Mass and ceremony of marriage will be celebrated atSt Michael-in-Lewes at midday, the 20th May 1994 concelebrated by Fr. OliverRounday, incumbent of St Michael's and Fr. Omar Ibn J'nna, of Cliffe and theJerusalem Citadel.

U[U[U[U[U[U[U

cHAPTER 11

Samuel passed by his factory- the factory he used to own - at just the wrong moment. A priest was sealingthe great iron gates with a flimsy papal ribbon, sealing the knot withpapal-red wax. The nameplate - his nameplate - that used to be there hadbeen roughly torn off. He could see the corners of it still screwed in