Miss Landon and Aubranael

Part 4

'You do not reside in Grenlowe, I think,' he said. 'Or even in Aylfenhame, I would judge. This Tilby of yours is situated in...?'

'England.'

'Ah! Distant shores! And how came you to be travelling here, Miss Landon of Tilby?'

'It was not a plan of my own making,' she replied, and explained the circumstances behind her arrival. To her surprise he appeared to have heard of Balligumph, and on the mention of the troll's name his manner towards her (already thoroughly friendly) warmed even further. This civil exchange culminated in an invitation to take tea with him: 'For,' he said gravely, 'your kind is famed for love of that particular beverage.'

His offer posed a dilemma, and she paused to consider. It was one thing to converse briefly with a gentleman one had happened to bump into (or vice versa); it was quite another to accept an invitation to tea, and without any other companion! Sophy found that she dearly wished to accept, for there was something about him that charmed her enormously; but she could not bring herself to be so bold.

She was saved by a slight cough from behind her. Turning, she found Thundigle glaring up at her.

'Oh! True, indeed, I had forgot. I must not eat or drink anything here, my friend assures me,' she said, turning back to Aubranael. 'Which is a shame, for I am rather thirsty.'

'No matter: you may watch me drink tea, and I will endeavour to make it every bit as entertaining an experience as drinking it yourself.'

With Thundigle to go with her, Sophy could see no further objections to this plan, and she smiled her approbation of it.

But then something strange happened.

The great purple cat came leaping back, sailing past Sophy's head without warning and making her jump with fright. The cat leapt straight at Aubranael's face, but instead of attacking him—as Sophy's startled mind expected—the creature collided with his great hat, and sent it tumbling to the floor. At the same time a cloud slipped over the sun and a great gust of wind came howling down the street, blowing back Aubranael's long hair. For the first time since their meeting, Sophy was afforded a clear view of his face, and she could not help but stare.

He might once have been handsome, but some accident had wrested from him forever the power of being considered even tolerably pleasing. His face was a mess of twisted, scarred flesh; only his eyes, velvet brown and suddenly sad, had escaped unscathed.

His expression changed as hers did. All his sunny merriment drained away, and he looked stricken.

'Apologies,' he said quietly, bowing his head to hide his face, once more, behind his hair. 'I should not have asked; now I have made you uncomfortable.' He spoke without a trace of bitterness or resentment, or even self-pity, and he made no attempt to chastise the cat. His apology seemed sincere, and Sophy cursed herself for her reaction. What could it possibly matter, when he was such congenial company?

'In England,' she said, summoning back her smile, 'it is considered impolite to withdraw an invitation once given, especially to a lady. Here I had taken you for a gentleman!'

Aubranael studied her for a moment, perhaps weighing the sincerity of her words. At last, his smile returned; faint, but growing stronger.

'And you, Miss Landon of Tilby, are every inch a lady, I am sure,' he said. He offered her his arm, and without hesitation, she took it.

'Will your companion be joining us?' he enquired, looking down at Thundigle.

The brownie drew himself up to his full, diminutive height and looked down his nose at Aubranael's knees. 'Miss Landon requires a chaperon, sir, as you would know if you were indeed a gentleman.'