Page 11 of Dearest Beast
Rubbing her gloved fingers in the frigid air, she asked, “What do you know?”
Probably not as much as he should. He cursed Sol in his head.
“That there was a small accident at the Adler house.” He glanced between her and the still-smoldering structure.
“You’d call this small?” Her obnoxious husband approached, his arms folded across his chest, glaring at Roger.
Frappe, frappes, frappe, frappons, frappez, frappent.
“I’d call it not grave, as I understand no one was hurt, most of the house and possessions are intact, and the damage can be repaired,” he offered, keeping his voice properly calm, unlikesomepeople. “While it is upsetting and inconvenient to the owners and occupants—to whom my family apologizes—we shall make every effort to repair, replace, and compensate them so that they might be made whole, and we can move on from this unfortunate incident.”
“Your empathy is startling,” Ellenberg deadpanned. Removing his top hat, he ran his fingers through his shaggy dark hair, nearly dislodging his kippah, despite its unfashionably large size.
God, he despised the man.
Tue, tues, tue, tuons, tuez, tuent.
“My empathy is perfectly adequate,” he said. “Especially as I’m not speaking directly to those affected.”
“I’m sure he’ll do a lovely job when that occurs,” Isabelle interrupted, her voice bright.
“I wouldn’t hold your breath, darling.” Ellenberg didn’t even bother whispering.
Roger’s patience terminated.
“Do be quiet, Ellenberg,” he snapped. “This is none of your concern.”
“No, I suppose not.” The man eyed him for a moment before returning his attention to his wife. “I shall go see if the menwe’vehired on your behalf need any assistance.” After giving her a kiss on the cheek, he lifted his chin and met Roger’s gaze. “My wife shall send you a bill.”
Then he sauntered over to a group of laborers, directing them, as if he had the training to supervise others.
“I—” Roger started, before Isabelle stepped closer and interrupted him once more.
“As Aaron indicated, I took the liberty of beginning the process of making the Adler family whole. I didn’t believe you’d mind, as I already knew you’d be seeking to do the same and would want to employ the same crews,” she explained. “Our families are always of mutual mind on such matters.”
“Naturally.” He nodded, even as his senses ticked with wariness.
A small row of jewels just beneath the rim of her velvet-lined bonnet twinkled in the dim light of evening. A touch gaudy, as the Lira family’s taste ran, but what she said was true; their families were generally united in their views of the world, the community, and proper comportment within both.
“All the salvageable furnishings and housewares shall be warehoused until the internal repairs are made,” Isabelle said. “The servants have been instructed to pack all their remaining belongings, and I hope you don’t mind, but I hired a hack to transport them to Maria’s home in Kent to stay for the duration of the repairs.”
Roger started at the mention of his sister’s name.
“I know how she loves guests,” Isabelle continued, somehow without taking a breath. “I would’ve taken them to my home, but unfortunately, it’s quite crowded at the moment, as my aunt and cousins from Amsterdam arrived the other day and are being joined by a rabbi from Djerba and his lovely wife, Haviva, who’ve been traveling to all the best communities to improve relations, and thus, under the circumstances, I think they’d be most comfortable there.”
The words tumbled out at a dizzying speed, loud enough that she rivaled most performers onstage, reminding him yet again why, despite its advantages, their union had truly been ill-advised. At least for his hearing.
“Don’t you agree,” she demanded rather than asked.
“I do,” he said, the uneasiness in his gut now intensifying. He was most certainly being managed. Though to what end?
“Once you receive an inventory of the damaged goods, I’d be more than happy to assist in procurement,” she offered.
“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “I should be able to manage.” As there was no way he was going to permit this woman, or worse, her husband, to believe that he wasn’t perfectly capable, his own schedule be damned.
“Excellent.” She clapped her hands together, her silver reticule bouncing against her pelisse. “We’re in agreement.”
Before he could respond, she’d slid her arm through his and tugged his body to the left with surprising force for someone so small. “Shall we?”
