Sheri Cobb South by The Weaver Takes a Wife

Author:The Weaver Takes a Wife
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Marriage has many pains, but celibacy has no pleasures.

SAMUEL JOHNSON, Rasselas

While his wife made preparations for the journey to Lancashire, Mr. Brundy, under the auspices of his ducal papa-in-law, submitted himself to the tender mercies of Schweitzer and Davidson, tailors to no less a personage than the Prince Regent himself.

The duke, having recently settled his delinquent account thanks in large part to Mr. Brundy’s lavish marriage settlement, was welcomed to the venerable Cork Street establishment with open arms. His son-in-law’s reception, however, was considerably cooler. The two tailors bobbed and bowed before his Grace, leaving their underling, Jennings, with the task of giving the boot to the badly dressed Cit who entered the shop in the duke’s wake.

“Good morning, your Grace, and how may we be of service to you, your Grace? Not you, sir,” said Jennings, gently but firmly closing the door in Mr. Brundy’s face. “We don’t do business with the likes of you. May I suggest you try Nugee? I understand he is less discriminating. So sorry, your Grace.”

“So you should be, for you have just shut the door on my son-in-law!” barked the affronted duke.

Instantly Mr. Brundy found the door thrown wide to receive him. “Come in, come in, sir, I beg your pardon, Mr., er—”

“Brundy,” he said, offering his hand. “Ethan Brundy.”

“Mr. Brundy, sir,” mumbled the hireling, uncomfortably accepting the handshake of one who, as his social superior, should have been above overtures which could only be described as familiar.

Mr. Schweitzer, the senior partner, listened in silence to this exchange. As his livelihood depended upon the fortunes of the haut ton, he made it his business to follow the latest on dits, whether published in the London papers or let fall from the lips of his noble clientele. He knew that all of London was abuzz with the news of the duke’s daughter’s hasty marriage to a wealthy tradesman, and this information, combined with the recent settlement of his Grace’s long-overdue account, gave him a very fair idea of Mr. Brundy’s importance to himself and his partner.

“And how may we be of service to you, Mr. Brundy?” he asked, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to relieve the weaver of his hat and gloves.

“My son-in-law is recently arrived from Lancashire,” the duke informed them. “He wishes you to turn him out as a gentleman.”

“Indeed,” said Mr. Schweitzer, eyeing his new client dubiously. “If you would remove your, er, coat, Mr. Brundy?”

Mr. Brundy obliged. “Where should I put it?” he asked.

“You might try the fireplace,” suggested Jennings sotto voce, taking the offending garment between thumb and forefinger.

Ordering their underling to fetch a measuring tape, the royal tailors laid violent hands on the unfortunate Mr. Brundy and soon stripped him to his smallclothes, whereupon they stepped back to survey the canvas upon which they were to produce their art.

“Not above the average height, more’s the pity, but the legs are well shaped, and the shoulders are broad,” pronounced Mr. Schweitzer at last.

Nodding his agreement, Mr.

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