Means of Support
Oct. 22nd, 2007 09:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolevalanTitle: Means of Support
Fandom/original: Bleak House
Rating: PG-13
A/N: For Abby, who (like me) is convinced that this may be canon. A Halloween story.
It was raining hard enough that one could not be entirely sure what time of day or night it was. Great gray curtains of rain draped over the network of streets leading to Chancery, among them the one housing the mean tenement now home to one Mr. Richard Carstone, ward in Jarndyce. Richard sat staring blankly out at the downpour, a sheaf of paper resting idle in one hand. Miss Ada Clare being lately departed, everything seemed a bit gloomier than even the normal state of closeness could account for. The figures on the paper, when he spared them a glance, did nothing to help the gloom.
The frank truth of it was that the money had run out. Had run out long since, and been replaced by hovering black vultures of debt. It would all be taken care of, certainly, once the case was settled, but his creditors grew increasingly impatient. And then there was the man currently climbing the front stairs of the building. Vholes could not be expected to work for free, that was certain, but he assured Richard continually of the prudence in continuation.
Vholes was still shaking rain from his umbrella as he arrived at Richard’s room. “Good day, Mr. Carstone, good day.” Skimpole was, for once, not with the solicitor, and Richard was privately grateful.
He looked up and offered Vholes a wan smile. “Good day, Mr. Vholes. What are we at this morning?”
“The morning is quite gone, Mr. Carstone. It’s nearly two.” Vholes removed his greatcoat and hat, and laid them neatly on the bed to soak into his young client’s blankets.
“Is it? I must have worked through dinner.”
“Quite.” Vholes came to sit. “Well, Mr. Carstone, there are several developments that merit your attention.”
They spent two hours or so reviewing a great number of legal points that Richard barely understood, and those only by virtue of the little he’d learned at Kenge and Carboy’s. Vholes seemed, as always, to think a great deal of progress had been made.
“And finally, Mr. Carstone, though I’m loathe to mention it, there are a few accounts that require looking to. After all, nothing comes from nothing, I’m sorry to say.”
Richard sighed and glanced out the window before looking back at Vholes. “I’m afraid, Mr. Vholes, that after this session, I will be forced to disengage you. There is simply no means by which I can pay. My army salary is all eaten up by debt, and that barely keeps the creditors satisfied. I know you’ve a family to feed, and perhaps you should investigate clients more able to sustain you. And them.”
Vholes was quiet a moment, then removed his spectacles. “Mr. Carstone. It would, surely, be a shame to cease your efforts now, when you are so very close to finding the return on your wise investment. Though of course, I must abide by your decision.”
“But I’m afraid I have no choice, Mr. Vholes.”
Vholes regarded the flushed, earnest young man in the shabby waistcoat. Richard looked agitated, but forced himself to remain still under Vholes’ gaze.
“I think,” he said slowly, “that I may propose another solution, Mr. Carstone. If you will permit me.”
“Yes, Mr. Vholes, of course.”
“Perhaps you haven’t the means to feed my children, sir, but you still have the means to sustain me.”
“I am afraid I don’t understand.”
Vholes leaned in a bit. “Please give me your hand, Mr. Carstone.”
Richard was taken aback; he could never remember actually touching Vholes before. After a moment, however, he laid his hand on the outstretched palm of the solicitor.
Vholes turned it over, as if it were an object not belonging to Richard at all, pulling it a little farther free of the frayed cuff. Richard shivered a bit involuntarily.
“Yes. I think this will do,” Vholes said, to himself.
“Mr. Vholes, I still don’t –” And Richard let out a cry of surprise as Mr. Vholes sank his teeth into Richard’s wrist. Richard knew, distantly, that it should hurt, but it only ached, like a muscle pulled several days previous. Vholes’ grip was surprisingly strong, one hand on either side of place he bit. He didn’t seem to be taking particular pleasure or displease in the moment. He was as calm as he’d ever been with a business transaction between them.
It seemed to last hours, but in fact it could have only been minutes. Vholes withdrew, releasing Richard’s arm. The marks were small, neat, and discreetly high enough to be covered even by Richard’s shabby sleeves. Vholes pressed his lips together, and then nodded, calmly. “Yes. It will do.”
Richard all but collapsed backwards into his chair, utterly spent. “Will it?”
“Yes. Quite well. Just until the case is settled, you understand.”
“Yes, of course,” Richard agreed faintly. He understood that something had gone terribly wrong, that much was clear. But even so… part of him felt nothing more than relief that he would no longer have to include Vholes’ salary in his budget.
“I trust I may rely on your discretion, Mr. Carstone, as you may rely on mine. I think that is all, for this afternoon.”
Richard nodded. “Quite. You know the way out, I th—” but before he could finished he was seized with a fit of coughing.
“Indeed. Good day, sir.” Vholes retrieved hat, coat and umbrella, and let himself out. Richard pressed the inside of his wrist against his stomach, as if to staunch the wounds that had not, in fact, bled. He felt very odd indeed, as if everything had gone misty with the rain, even indoors.
But it didn’t matter. He would have justice after all.
Fandom/original: Bleak House
Rating: PG-13
A/N: For Abby, who (like me) is convinced that this may be canon. A Halloween story.
It was raining hard enough that one could not be entirely sure what time of day or night it was. Great gray curtains of rain draped over the network of streets leading to Chancery, among them the one housing the mean tenement now home to one Mr. Richard Carstone, ward in Jarndyce. Richard sat staring blankly out at the downpour, a sheaf of paper resting idle in one hand. Miss Ada Clare being lately departed, everything seemed a bit gloomier than even the normal state of closeness could account for. The figures on the paper, when he spared them a glance, did nothing to help the gloom.
The frank truth of it was that the money had run out. Had run out long since, and been replaced by hovering black vultures of debt. It would all be taken care of, certainly, once the case was settled, but his creditors grew increasingly impatient. And then there was the man currently climbing the front stairs of the building. Vholes could not be expected to work for free, that was certain, but he assured Richard continually of the prudence in continuation.
Vholes was still shaking rain from his umbrella as he arrived at Richard’s room. “Good day, Mr. Carstone, good day.” Skimpole was, for once, not with the solicitor, and Richard was privately grateful.
He looked up and offered Vholes a wan smile. “Good day, Mr. Vholes. What are we at this morning?”
“The morning is quite gone, Mr. Carstone. It’s nearly two.” Vholes removed his greatcoat and hat, and laid them neatly on the bed to soak into his young client’s blankets.
“Is it? I must have worked through dinner.”
“Quite.” Vholes came to sit. “Well, Mr. Carstone, there are several developments that merit your attention.”
They spent two hours or so reviewing a great number of legal points that Richard barely understood, and those only by virtue of the little he’d learned at Kenge and Carboy’s. Vholes seemed, as always, to think a great deal of progress had been made.
“And finally, Mr. Carstone, though I’m loathe to mention it, there are a few accounts that require looking to. After all, nothing comes from nothing, I’m sorry to say.”
Richard sighed and glanced out the window before looking back at Vholes. “I’m afraid, Mr. Vholes, that after this session, I will be forced to disengage you. There is simply no means by which I can pay. My army salary is all eaten up by debt, and that barely keeps the creditors satisfied. I know you’ve a family to feed, and perhaps you should investigate clients more able to sustain you. And them.”
Vholes was quiet a moment, then removed his spectacles. “Mr. Carstone. It would, surely, be a shame to cease your efforts now, when you are so very close to finding the return on your wise investment. Though of course, I must abide by your decision.”
“But I’m afraid I have no choice, Mr. Vholes.”
Vholes regarded the flushed, earnest young man in the shabby waistcoat. Richard looked agitated, but forced himself to remain still under Vholes’ gaze.
“I think,” he said slowly, “that I may propose another solution, Mr. Carstone. If you will permit me.”
“Yes, Mr. Vholes, of course.”
“Perhaps you haven’t the means to feed my children, sir, but you still have the means to sustain me.”
“I am afraid I don’t understand.”
Vholes leaned in a bit. “Please give me your hand, Mr. Carstone.”
Richard was taken aback; he could never remember actually touching Vholes before. After a moment, however, he laid his hand on the outstretched palm of the solicitor.
Vholes turned it over, as if it were an object not belonging to Richard at all, pulling it a little farther free of the frayed cuff. Richard shivered a bit involuntarily.
“Yes. I think this will do,” Vholes said, to himself.
“Mr. Vholes, I still don’t –” And Richard let out a cry of surprise as Mr. Vholes sank his teeth into Richard’s wrist. Richard knew, distantly, that it should hurt, but it only ached, like a muscle pulled several days previous. Vholes’ grip was surprisingly strong, one hand on either side of place he bit. He didn’t seem to be taking particular pleasure or displease in the moment. He was as calm as he’d ever been with a business transaction between them.
It seemed to last hours, but in fact it could have only been minutes. Vholes withdrew, releasing Richard’s arm. The marks were small, neat, and discreetly high enough to be covered even by Richard’s shabby sleeves. Vholes pressed his lips together, and then nodded, calmly. “Yes. It will do.”
Richard all but collapsed backwards into his chair, utterly spent. “Will it?”
“Yes. Quite well. Just until the case is settled, you understand.”
“Yes, of course,” Richard agreed faintly. He understood that something had gone terribly wrong, that much was clear. But even so… part of him felt nothing more than relief that he would no longer have to include Vholes’ salary in his budget.
“I trust I may rely on your discretion, Mr. Carstone, as you may rely on mine. I think that is all, for this afternoon.”
Richard nodded. “Quite. You know the way out, I th—” but before he could finished he was seized with a fit of coughing.
“Indeed. Good day, sir.” Vholes retrieved hat, coat and umbrella, and let himself out. Richard pressed the inside of his wrist against his stomach, as if to staunch the wounds that had not, in fact, bled. He felt very odd indeed, as if everything had gone misty with the rain, even indoors.
But it didn’t matter. He would have justice after all.
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no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 02:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 02:31 am (UTC)Yes, Richard would become vampire food to continue his court case. The boy has no sense of perspective whatsoever.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 02:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-11 07:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-11 03:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-11 02:53 pm (UTC)