A Moment Too Soon
Chapter One: Lady Ashton
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock . . .
Sir Ribald James snapped the face closed on his pocket watch and stuffed it into the folds of his vest. It was a quarter to seven, and he was early. He was always early--so often, in fact, that if he actually arrived on time, his friends would tease him about being late. As he raised his hand to lift the knocker, he caught a glimpse of himself in the glass. His bowler was askew and a piece of hair jutted from beneath it. He tucked it back under the hat and dropped the bronze ring.
"'alf a moment, then!" someone called from within.
Ribald stepped back as a wiry little woman pried the door open and squinted out at him through bottlecap spectacles.
"Hello, Molly," Ribald said with a small bow. "How are you today?"
"Shhhh!" Molly beckoned Ribald closer and leaned in to whisper, "It's the pox, suh. I'm certain this time, I am. But shhhh!"
She held a finger up to her lips and Ribald shook his head with grave agreement. "Not a word," his whispered, and crossed his heart to seal the oath.
With a conspiratal smile, Molly motioned for him to follow and led the way into the house. Ribald smiled at the little woman's back. She was always suffering from some ailment or another, though none of the afflictions had yet proved to be fatal--or even manifested symptoms. Still, she persisted in her hypochondria, and who was he to protest?
He followed her into the drawing room. The curtains were drawn, lending the room an air of gloom. Lazy whorls of dust drifted through the rare shafts of light that still crept through the shades. In the dimness, one could just make out the silhouette of a tall armchair, its back turned to the door.
Only the dust moved, but from that chair, a woman's soft voice emerged. "Good evening, Sir Ribald. You're late."