The Last Suitor. A J McMahon
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Nicholas felt more than ever that he was in the party but not of it. A growing sense of loneliness spread through him. It was only a matter of time before he left, he decided. It had been interesting for a while to be at a party where he knew no-one to talk to but the interest had faded by now. He liked new experiences, and this had been a new experience, but he was done with it now and he did not care to repeat it. The party was as loud as ever; everyone except for Nicholas was having fun. He went into a room where some men were sitting around a table, looking the worst for wear. He spotted Tagalong amongst them and walked over, deciding to chat briefly before leaving. He stood by the table where Tagalong could see him. Tagalong’s companions were talking, naturally enough, of wandlore, from which Nicholas assumed (correctly) that they had finished talking about women.
‘This man Raspero,’ Tagalong said, pointing to Nicholas with a wavering hand, clearly the worse for drink, ‘is a damn good wandfighter. He took down six of Fitzroy’s men like that,’ Tagalong continued, clicking his fingers, ‘and he can do the Three.’
Everyone looked at Nicholas with interest.
Nicholas said nothing.
‘Is that true? Can you do the Three?’ someone asked.
‘Yes,’ Nicholas said as if confirming his name.
There was silence, and then someone said, ‘And would you care to substantiate such a claim by a demonstration?’
‘There’s a table right here in Regana Palace,’ someone else added.
‘I am not a performing circus animal,’ Nicholas declared. ‘No, I am not going to do the Three just to satisfy your curiosity.’
‘Well, of course we believe you,’ someone else said sarcastically. ‘All you have to do is make this claim and we know it’s true.’
Nicholas looked hard at him. ‘If any of you accuse me of lying, I will demand satisfaction.’
‘Back off, all of you!’ Tagalong ordered, waving his hands in the air. ‘He took down six of Jolly’s men like that!’ He clicked his fingers in the air again. Nicholas wondered who Jolly was, when earlier it had been Fitzroy.
‘Perhaps we should provide an inducement of some kind,’ someone suggested. ‘Naturally we cannot expect you to perform such a feat for nothing. What prize would you deserve to receive for such a demonstration?’
Nicholas already knew without needing to think what prize he sought. Matters which reach from one side of your life to the other do not require thought. ‘If there is one among you who is acquainted with Lady Isabel Grangeshield, I will do the Three in return for an introduction to Lady Isabel Grangeshield.’
‘I know Lady Grangeshield,’ someone else present said.
Nicholas looked at Tagalong. ‘Can you introduce me to this gentleman?’
Tagalong could not conceal his delight that he could, having just received his own introduction ten minutes earlier. ‘Mr Boylent, may I present Mr Nicholas Raspero. Mr Raspero, may I present Mr Timothy Boylent.’
‘Mr Boylent, do you agree to introduce me to Lady Isabel Grangeshield if I do the Three?’ Nicholas asked.
Timothy shrugged. ‘Yes,’ he said casually. ‘Not a problem.’
‘All right,’ Nicholas said. ‘Let’s go.’ He was glad now that he had drunk nothing since the afternoon. He would need a clear head for this. Luckily the loneliness he had experienced earlier seemed to have resulted in a complete restoration of his sobriety.
They all trooped off to the rear of the palace, where there was a large wood-panelled room, hung with paintings and decorative swords. The table stood in the place of honour in the centre. Other people standing about came along to watch the show. Mr Odell Ralston tapped his wand on the button and the table whirred into action. Rings began to rotate around each other.
Nicholas went to one end of the table, took out his wand, lifted a disc from the three stacked in a red velvet-lined hollow, and waited. Mr Ralston tapped his wand on the hourglass and sand began trickling through the funnel.
Nicholas crouched, studying the rings. His task was to send the disc flying through the middle of the rings when they were lined up with each other sufficient to provide an opening for the disc to pass through. The difficulty was that the incessantly revolving, rotating and oscillating rings never seemed to provide such an opening.
Nicholas was a statue, not moving a muscle. Then he struck; the disc flew through the rings and sank into the wooden headboard, on the far side of the table. Nicholas took another disc; the sand continued to trickle; another disc went through the rings; he took the third disc; the silence in the room was palpable now; some of those present had never even seen the Three performed. Nicholas waited again, intensely intent; the third disc flew through the rings. Nicholas raised himself up and looked at the hourglass. It had been timed for ten minutes, and nearly a third of the sand still remained.
‘That’s it, then,’ he said calmly, ‘it’s done. Now to claim my prize.’
Nicholas’s guide took him through the house as together they went in search of Lady Isabel Grangeshield. After ten minutes or so they found her. She was again with her companion of before and by chance they looked across at the door just as Nicholas and Timothy entered. They immediately looked towards each other, leaning their heads together and giggling.
Nicholas and Timothy walked right up to them and Timothy said, ‘Lady Grangeshield, I present Mr Nicholas Raspero. Miss Philips, I present Mr Nicholas Raspero.’
Then he turned to Nicholas. ‘Mr Raspero, I present Lady Isabel Grangeshield. I also present Miss Mary Philips.’
The ladies had not looked at either of them even once throughout this introduction, leaning against each other with their foreheads touching and giggling helplessly. Then, as if by a secret agreement, they both broke away and ran for the door, bursting into shrieks of laughter as if the funniest thing in the world had just happened and it was all too much for them.
Nicholas was utterly content as he watched them go. He felt that everything had turned out perfectly. ‘Thank you, Mr Boylent,’ he said in all sincerity. ‘You have kept your side of the bargain.’
‘You are welcome, Mr Raspero,’ Timothy said. ‘It was really no trouble at all. A mere trifle.’
Which for Timothy, of course, it had been, but for Nicholas it had been one of the great moments of his young life.
10:15 PM, Thursday 5 May 1544 A.F
Isabel was in the Dacian Salon with Mary Philips, who had some additional comments to make on the very choice gossip she had imparted earlier concerning her brother George. The girls were huddling together and giggling over what she had to say when they saw the shabby stranger of before enter the room in the company of Timothy Boylent and approach them. Isabel was feeling very merry. The glasses of wine she had drunk had gone to her head, and she felt floaty and cheerful and giggly.
Mary immediately realised what was happening. ‘Izzy, it’s your rich and handsome suitor! Look, he’s going to be introduced to you.’
The girls were laughing so much that Isabel didn’t hear a word Timothy was saying. They waited out of habitual politeness for the introduction to be completed, helpless with laughter. ‘Run for it before he proposes!’ Mary suggested with her sharp, clever wit into Isabel’s ear and the girls ran for it, laughing fit to burst. It was really too funny, this nobody stranger in his shabby clothes wanting to be introduced to Isabel. It was hilarious!
11:00 PM, Thursday 5 May 1544 A.F
Nicholas was again wandering around on his own, enjoying the party. He felt more content now; for one moment, during his introduction to Isabel he had belonged there; at that moment he had been of the party, not just in it. The fact that Isabel had ignored him did not matter. It was not relevant to the fact that he had been introduced. Somehow that had a significance that he could not define, yet felt so