(no subject)
Happy more joy day! Thank you anon for the polar bear! <3 Have some utterly ridiculous Slings and Arrows fic, vaguely in the style of Georgette Heyer. It is incomplete, at 600 words, but I had much fun writing it.
'Sir Geoffrey, I swear that while I am not a violent man--'
'Do you know, that is perhaps the first accurate statement I have thus far heard from you, since much of what you say, Nichols, is arrant nonsense. But do go on.'
Sir Geoffrey remained in his seated position on the floor, his back to the wall. He was engaged in the servicing of a flintlock pistol, much to Sir Darren's vexation. The man wore his shirtsleeves and breeches, his hair was uncombed, and his appearance warranted Sir Darren, a man of taste and style, considerable offence. 'You are insufferable. Utterly insufferable. I shall quit this place and look for aid elsewhere,' he declaimed, turning and exiting the room. He remained in high dudgeon as he commenced the walk up the sweeping drive, as his carriage had been despatched already.No doubt it was Sir Geoffrey's doing. High handed man! His new hessian boots would be quite ruined by the dust.
By the time he had walked five minutes, he was on the verge of removing his jacket, and his ardour had not cooled one whit. Had he been assured of a second in this rural backwater, he would have called Sir Geoffrey out, despite his reputation as the finest duellist in the country, swords or pistols. There had been a story doing the rounds at the assembly rooms some months ago of a duel fought on a frozen pond, in which the recoil from the pistol firing had propelled Sir Geoffrey's challenger some distance away, into the rushes at the side of the pond. Sir Geoffrey himself was unerring in his marksmanship, shooting the pistol clean out of the man's hand as he flailed across the ice.
Sir Darren heard the thudding of hooves on the dusty ground behind him, but did not deign to turn around, continuing to march doggedly towards his estates. The horseman became impossible to ignore, however, when he was unceremoniously hauled up onto the saddle and deposited,front down, across it. 'Unhand me this instant!' Sir Darren cried, struggling as much as he was able. Sir Geoffrey merely snorted. 'You brute! Blackguard! I will not tolerate being treated in this manner! You have been discourteous from the very moment I met you.'
'Do be quiet. You'll frighten Apollo.'
'Apollo?'
'My horse.'
'It's a ridiculous name for a horse, but I suppose in such a provincial estate-'
As he continued upon this detailed enumeration of the faults of Sir Geoffrey's estate, stables, hounds, grounds and person, Sir Geoffey clicked his tongue, and steered the horse off the drive and through a thicket. Sir Darren, it must be said, was too occupied in his diatribe to notice where they wre going. He did, however, notice the cold shock of the water, as he was tumbled off the horse. The sun was behind Sir Geoffrey, so it was impossible to see his expression as Sir Darren sat up, spluttering in the waist height water. His voice, however, was soft and menacing, with a timbre to it that Sir Darren could not fail to be warmed by, cold as the water was. 'I would thank you in future to keep such observations to yourself. You have tried me enough today.' Sir Darren could only look up at him in utter shock as he was scooped back up, and taken back up the drive, back to the shabby manor house he was swiftly learning to despise.
'Sir Geoffrey, I swear that while I am not a violent man--'
'Do you know, that is perhaps the first accurate statement I have thus far heard from you, since much of what you say, Nichols, is arrant nonsense. But do go on.'
Sir Geoffrey remained in his seated position on the floor, his back to the wall. He was engaged in the servicing of a flintlock pistol, much to Sir Darren's vexation. The man wore his shirtsleeves and breeches, his hair was uncombed, and his appearance warranted Sir Darren, a man of taste and style, considerable offence. 'You are insufferable. Utterly insufferable. I shall quit this place and look for aid elsewhere,' he declaimed, turning and exiting the room. He remained in high dudgeon as he commenced the walk up the sweeping drive, as his carriage had been despatched already.No doubt it was Sir Geoffrey's doing. High handed man! His new hessian boots would be quite ruined by the dust.
By the time he had walked five minutes, he was on the verge of removing his jacket, and his ardour had not cooled one whit. Had he been assured of a second in this rural backwater, he would have called Sir Geoffrey out, despite his reputation as the finest duellist in the country, swords or pistols. There had been a story doing the rounds at the assembly rooms some months ago of a duel fought on a frozen pond, in which the recoil from the pistol firing had propelled Sir Geoffrey's challenger some distance away, into the rushes at the side of the pond. Sir Geoffrey himself was unerring in his marksmanship, shooting the pistol clean out of the man's hand as he flailed across the ice.
Sir Darren heard the thudding of hooves on the dusty ground behind him, but did not deign to turn around, continuing to march doggedly towards his estates. The horseman became impossible to ignore, however, when he was unceremoniously hauled up onto the saddle and deposited,front down, across it. 'Unhand me this instant!' Sir Darren cried, struggling as much as he was able. Sir Geoffrey merely snorted. 'You brute! Blackguard! I will not tolerate being treated in this manner! You have been discourteous from the very moment I met you.'
'Do be quiet. You'll frighten Apollo.'
'Apollo?'
'My horse.'
'It's a ridiculous name for a horse, but I suppose in such a provincial estate-'
As he continued upon this detailed enumeration of the faults of Sir Geoffrey's estate, stables, hounds, grounds and person, Sir Geoffey clicked his tongue, and steered the horse off the drive and through a thicket. Sir Darren, it must be said, was too occupied in his diatribe to notice where they wre going. He did, however, notice the cold shock of the water, as he was tumbled off the horse. The sun was behind Sir Geoffrey, so it was impossible to see his expression as Sir Darren sat up, spluttering in the waist height water. His voice, however, was soft and menacing, with a timbre to it that Sir Darren could not fail to be warmed by, cold as the water was. 'I would thank you in future to keep such observations to yourself. You have tried me enough today.' Sir Darren could only look up at him in utter shock as he was scooped back up, and taken back up the drive, back to the shabby manor house he was swiftly learning to despise.