The Prince of Mirrors by Alan Robert Clark

Author:Alan Robert Clark
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fairlight Books
Published: 2020-03-06T15:16:45+00:00

Chapter XIV

1888. London.

Under the wrinkles and the lines, the pockmarks of youth and the liverish stains of age, the judge’s displeasure bubbles quietly. The nerve that slumbers in the fleshy bag below his left eye is twitching. This evening is far from the event he had wanted.

Jem sees the twitch; they all do. They all know the contours of that face as well as their own. Long ago, the judge’s wife and children learned to read it like a barometer. Tonight, a skim of a smile is there because the occasion demands it, but it is the usual flaccid thing. It will not blossom into a sudden grin, no teeth will be shown, no head flung back, no eyes dance. Judge Stephen’s smile will nourish nobody. It never has.

Jem feels a stab of satisfaction that, for once, his father must suppress himself. And in his own house too, at his own table. There can be no explosion tonight. At least, he prays not. These days, his father’s temperament is scarcely less erratic than his own.

Yet the judge should be delighted. It is indeed a coup of sorts. He has Albert Victor seated on his right, talking to him with the greatest deference and amiability. Invitations have been issued before, but they have always been graciously declined. So it is a surprise when a letter arrives, wondering if it might be possible for Sir James and Lady Stephen to receive him for tea or perhaps even dinner, should they have an unoccupied evening. But the letter also requests that no fuss is made; their guest would prefer a quiet dinner with the family. He would so like to meet, at long last, his dear old tutor’s parents and siblings without pomp or ceremony.

‘Without pomp or ceremony?’ rails the judge. ‘What’s the bloody point of that?’

His wife takes the tiny bottle from the tray, shakes three drops into a small glass of water, pats his shoulder as he drinks it. It is important that he be kept calm. There must not be another stroke.

‘Your father wants a glittering occasion,’ she whispers to Jem, ‘filled with his most distinguished friends and, in particular, his enemies. So they may then go forth and spread the word about the glory of the Stephens.’

But tonight, the dining table at De Vere Gardens is hardly a quarter full. They are huddled together in the centre; two long fingers of deserted walnut stretch out on either side, lost in the shadows beyond the reach of the candlelight. At first, there is a stiff gavotte of questions and answers; enquiries into the health of Eddy’s grandmother, his parents, his brothers and sisters, his horses and his dogs. Eddy responds with his patient sweetness.

‘I want to know all about you too, if I may?’ he says and, somewhat to their surprise, they hear themselves telling him.

By the time of the entree, the table is a warm and easy place. There has not been so much careless chatter round it for many a long day.

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