Part VI: The Glove

Mrs. Haddock was knitting a blanket for a new baby borne to one of the families who tended the orchards of the estate to go along with a generous basket of food.  Haddock was absorbed in the second act of Hamlet, enjoying the silence.  Mrs. Haddock’s needles had been click-clicking in the background for the past hour when they abruptly ceased.

“Malcolm?”

Haddock looked up over the lip of his book.

“Yes, Mother?”

              “I was just thinking,” she said, cocking her head in a loving manner. “It’s starting to get cool outside again, and you and Miss Marlowe mustn’t let a musty old woman like me keep you two lovebirds locked away in this ancient place while the nice summer weather is waning.”

Haddock lowered his book with a deep sigh.

“We enjoy keeping company with you, Mother.  You’re the one who hired Miss Marlowe as a companion for just that.”

Mrs. Haddock twiddled her knitting needles.

              “Yes, I know, but you two should spend some time together.  Just with each other.  Why don’t you take Miss Marlowe down to the village and have a day to yourselves, hm?”

“But—”

              “I insist, Malcolm.”

Mrs. Haddock was giving her progeny the same look she reserved for him as a youngster when he tucked a family of toads into her bedsheets.

“Fine,” Haddock muttered, hiding behind his book again.  Mrs. Haddock smiled and resumed her knitting.

Miss Marlowe was delighted when Haddock woodenly asked if she would like to go to the village with him to enjoy a day on their own.  If he had been a woman, he would have been turned off by his surly attitude.  Fortunate for Miss Marlowe that she took his bad attitude in stride.  Haddock allowed himself to be led around like a dog on a short leash while Miss Marlowe did a majority of the talking, telling him about her family and the latest happenings in her neighborhood as they made their way to the village.  There, they had passed too much time in a fabric store where Haddock felt a little piece of him die inside.  He had the distinct feeling that Miss Marlowe stretched out their stay in spite.  Afterwards, she was kind enough to suggest they pop into the bookstore.  Haddock ordered a sizable stack that would enrich his collection and bought a small book that Miss Marlowe was eyeing to keep up appearances of their courtship.  She was genuinely surprised by the gesture.

“What was that for?” she asked as he handed her the book following the purchase.

“You wanted it, didn’t you?”

              “I, um…yes.”—she gave him a peculiar look—“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” he said as they exited the store.

              They let the sounds of the street fill up the space that could have been devoted to talking, retreating to their thoughts.  Haddock didn’t really know why he had bought the book for Miss Marlowe.  It had been extremely impulsive.  How had he known that she wanted it in the first place?  Because you were watching her in the store.  The revelation of that little inner voice sent a hot jolt throughout his chest.  I was watching her to make sure Sir Drexel wouldn’t happen to try anything, he argued.  The little voice wasn’t convinced.  In a bookstore?  Sure, sure.  Haddock gagged the little voice and tried to think along another tack.  His eyes wandered over to Miss Marlowe with her hand on his arm.  He directed them directly in front of him.  And as if materializing out of his imagination, he saw Sir Drexel striding down the street straight ahead.  Haddock tried to pretend that he hadn’t seen the other, but Sir Drexel had already sighted him and was making a beeline for the couple.

Haddock tightened his grip on his cane, ready to deliver Sir Drexel an almighty wallop should he try to start anything.  Miss Marlowe—that ever-perceptive woman—took notice.

              “Don’t you dare,” she hissed. “You don’t need to be causing a scene in the middle of the marketplace.  The villagers already think you’re a mad hermit as is.  Don’t give them fuel for their fire!”

Haddock had to grudgingly agree with her logic.

              “Fine.”

Sir Drexel drew up to the couple, eyeing them down his gladiator’s nose.  He tipped his hat.

              “Haddock,” he spat.  It sounded like a curse word.  His eyes flicked over to Miss Marlowe’s face and a muscle in his cheek twitched.

“Miss Marlowe.”

The way he said her name had an icy snarl in it that caused Miss Marlowe to dig her trembling fingers into the crook of Haddock’s arm.

              “It’s so nice to see you, Sir Drexel,” Miss Marlowe ejaculated, her chipper tone belying the fear she was telegraphing through Haddock’s appendage.  He could feel some distinct bruises forming.  Sir Drexel smiled at her, but the smile didn’t reach up to his eyes.

              “I beg pardon, Miss Marlowe, but I just came over to deliver a message to your friend here.”

Haddock raised a thick brow at the other man.  What could Sir Drexel possibly have to say to him?  Sir Drexel grinned, and proceeded to slap Haddock in the face with a glove.  People close enough to witness the exchange gasped.

              “I challenge you to a duel,” he said with a wolfish grin.  His eyes slid over to Miss Marlowe. “For stealing the affections of my paramour.”

Having gained the intended attention, Sir Drexel swept away, whistling.