The Chocolatier's Wife (4 page)

She hoped so.

Chapter
3

Julait Twenty-Third, Gold Moon Quarter 1786

Dear
William,

Allow me to congratulate
you
on
becoming
the
Captain of your own ship.
Your father
must have
much
faith
in you
to allow you
such
responsibility, and
I
am very
pleased
for you.
From your description she
sounds quite well armed.
Is
it habit
for a merchant
vessel
to have
so very
many
guns?
I
quite wonder where
you
intend to store your provisions and
goods!

Today
my
mother is quite displeased with me,
for I
have brought
home
a
gaggle
of
homeless
Wind
Sprites. I
was wandering near
an
old castle
that
is being
torn down and
heard them,
or, rather,
felt
them,
weeping
most piteously. How could I leave
such
frigh
t
ened
creatures alone?
I
unbound them
from the spell that
kept
them
there,
and
they
latched
on
to me.
I
will see
if
I can find
a new, safe home for them.

Finally,
I
must beg
a
favor.
Soon,
I
will grad
u
ate
from my training and
gain
the
title of
Herb
Mistress. At the
ceremony, we
are
presented
with our athames,
knives
that
we
use in spell
casting
and
naught
else.
Anyone
who
is my
family,
or considered to be
family,
is asked
to give
something
of
brass or gold (for the athame
is made of
those
materials) to be
melted down and
used to create
the
knife.
My
people
believe
that
we
are
essentially
creatures of
energy
and
on
everything
we
touch
we
leave
an imprint of
that
energy,
so something
that
was worn often
has a
great
deal
of
its owner’s energy
in it. The
benev
o
lent
energy
of
those
who
(I
hope)
care
for me will protect me when
I
cast
or create
spells.
In
this vein,
I
beg
that
you
will give
me but one
of your brass coat
buttons.

Yours, eventually,

Tasmin

His
parents
sat
stif
f
ly
upright
across
the
table
from him,
their
tea
untouched,
as
they
tried
to
absorb what
their
normally
obedient
and
practical
son
had
just
said.

William
waited,
knowing that
eventually
someone
would
break
the silence, and
that it would be better if it weren’t he.

“Are
you
out
of
your
mind?”
His
father,
Justin,
was
quite
red-cheeked, displeased beyond reason,
but, so far
at least, trying to keep his head.

“I
have
served
the
family
concerns
for
seventeen
years
now,” William said
kindly. “I
think
that
it
is
time
I
turn
my
life
to
the
future—my
wife-to- be,
my own little bus
i
ness.”

“Turn
your
life
to
the
future?”
The
servants
would
not
have
to
listen
at the
door
if
his
father
kept
to
that
volume, for
they
would
be
able
to
quite easily
listen
while
working
by
the
kitchen
fire.
“This
is
your
future,
you damned ungrateful boy!”

“And
chocolate?”
his
mother
said,
as
if
it
were
a
filthy word.
“Who
in his
right
mind
would
give
up
a
place
as
part
of
a
successful
family
business in order
to
open
an establishment
that
sells
nothing
but
chocolate?
I
have never
heard
of
such
an
ill
co
n
ceived
notion
in
all
my
years.
I
do
hope
this
is your idea of a
joke.”

“I’ve
never liked
anything
half
so
well
as
I
like
chocolate.
Besides, Andrew
will
be
fine by
himself.
If
he
needs
help
it’s
not
like
I’ll
be
on
the other side of the world any
longer.”

“I
cannot
believe
my
ears.”
She
grabbed
her
husband’s
arm.
“If
this
was Andrew
I
would
understand,
but
this
is
William.
He’s
the
sensible
one.
The one you could always depend on
to make
the right choice!”

“The
boring one,”
William
added
with
a
smile,
even
though
he’d
never found A
n
drew to be exactly the pinnacle of excitement.

“Son?
This
fool
in front
of
me
is
not
my
son!”
William
hoped
his
father would start breathing soon,
for
he looked ready to explode.

“Yo
u
d
o
realiz
e
that
,
sinc
e
yo
u
ar
e
bein
g
force
d
t
o
marr
y
a
ha
g
fro
m
Tarnia...”

“Herb
Mistress.
Hags
are
different;
they
focus
on
different
rites
or
some such.
An
y
way, ‘tis
not
generally
considered
a
very
kind
thing
to
say,
so
I hope that when I
send for
her you shan’t
use it in
her hearing.”

His
father
slammed
both
hands
on
the
table.
“Do
you
really
think that
people
will
want
to
buy
food
from
one
of
them?
A
woman from
the North?”

“It’s chocolate,” he said firmly.
“I think it will do very well.”

He
left
only
when
he
was
certain
that
his
parents
would
be
alive the next time he saw them. He did not always particularly like his parents, especially
his
father, with
whom
he
had
slammed
heads
too
many
times over the
years
to
ever
truly
feel
co
m
fortable,
but
he
did
not—despite
his mother’s
assertions—wish to be the death of him.

The
Almsley
property
held
two
houses:
a
master
house,
where
the
head of
the
bus
i
ness
lived
and
ruled
the
shipping
company
with
an iron hand; and
a
smaller
house,
where
the
heir
to
the
fortunes
and
his
wife
lived. He went
past
the
smaller
cottage,
all
stone
and
gingerbread,
and
wondered what Tasmin
would make
of his choice.