A Shopping Trip

[Samuel Taylor]

Taylor expression sharpens considerably

"And what did I say Mr Swainswick? You must remember every word exactly.'it might be important."

[Jacob Swainswick]

"You said that the beasts knew my lady. That they were always seeking." The tailor frowned, waving the words away. "That doesn't matter. Are you sure you are alright? Should I summon you a cab?"

[Samuel Taylor]

A small frown creases across Taylor face.

"Your Lady? Hmm. I shall have to think on that. Anyhow, I feel as well as ever thank you. There is no need to summon transport."

He shakes his head.

"Thank you for your concern Mr Swainswick. Now..."

He gestures to the items in front of him.

[Jacob Swainswick]

"Ah, very well, sir."

Swainswick pulled a slightly pained expression, covering half of the lacy contents of the first drawer with the muslin.

"Ah, not these, sir. We must exclude them. Fit is very important there; we cannot rely upon chance. The chemise perhaps..."

The tailor seemed to come to a decision. Still, his tone was neither chiding nor lecturing: he seemed rather matter-of-fact. "Sir, I have to stress," he said. "the gloves, a shawl: those are excellent presents. A gift - particularly one given early in a suit-" he made the phrase a half-question, but pressed on, "it should give some indication of how you think of the recipient.

"You speak with an educated tone, sir, and seem a man of sophistication; ergo, I infer that the lady means more to you than a... flibbertigibbet. A gift should express what you think of when she comes to mind. This seems... extreme." Swainswick lifted the fine satin fabric of the chemise between finger and thumb. "Perhaps you should think of what you find so remarkable about her. That which makes her unique. A gift that reflects something she likes - perhaps a book by her favourite author: that would indicate the thought that had gone into the selection of the gift; or something that reflects a - a shared interest.

"In short, sir, I must caution you that a gift of this nature is something of a risk. I would not want your ill-will to fall upon this establishment should the lady be shocked, or refuse the gift, or even seek to break off your suit.

"The decision rests with you, of course; but I can recommend an excellent bookshop should a small bound copy of Keats, say, seem to have merit. Keats is very popular, sir, and for good reason -

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its lovliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

"I would be remiss were I to fail to mention this, sir."

[Samuel Taylor]

Taylor's eyes narrow and for three long seconds he stares at Swainswick. Then quite suddenly he blinks and returns to normal.

"Perhaps you are correct Mr Swainswick. The gloves and shawl it shall be then."

A slight shudder

"If you would be so kind as to send the bill to Taylor and Rook. The surgery in Beech Cliff."

[Jacob Swainswick]

"A wise choice, sir." The young man takes care to replace the drawers before busying himself with wrapping-paper and string. He paused a moment to write an address upon the back of a business card, his hand a neat, flowing copperplate.

"That bookshop I mentioned, sir. Please watch your step - it's dreadfully icy out. Is there anything else, sir? We also cater to gentlemen's requirements. Ladies always appreciate a man who cuts a dapper figure."

[Samuel Taylor]

Tucking the business card away in an inner pocket, Taylor hums.

"Unless you sell thick leather gauntlets, I'm afraid there is nothing else I require. For the moment at least, give your mistress my compliments."

His eyes seem vacant but his step is brisk as Taylor takes up the packages and heads for the door.

[Valentina Audley]

As Jacob wraps the parcel, Valentina stands slowly, allowing the soft rustle of her petticoats to be masked by the crackling of the paper.

She smoothes the grey linen of her skirt down, then opens the door to the shop and bustles in, the very picture of a shopkeeper intent on some aspect of her business.

"Mr Swainswick I wonder if you could... Oh, good evening Dr Taylor." She smiles and bobs him her usual small curtsey. She lets her eyes fall on the parcel and smiles sweetly. "I trust that you have found what you wanted?"

[Samuel Taylor]

Taylor's returning bow is deep

"My lady, indeed Mr Swainswick has furnished me with the items I requested."

[Jacob Swainswick]

"Let me get the door for you, sir," Swainswick added quickly, having recalled in time that he'd bolted it, and stepping rapidly past the doctor.

"We don't carry such items," he continued, cheerfully, and referring to the matter of the gauntlets. "There is a leather-worker who operates just this side of the gate-bridge. His name escapes me for the moment: Trenchard, or Trencher, I think. He may be able to furnish you with what you desire; although his hours are not so late."